#they have never ever ever disappointed me
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hallmarks of sisterhood
putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.
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Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you.
It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked.
As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily.
All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could.
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“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister.
“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.
“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.”
Alba flushed red with anger.
“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind.
“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”
“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?”
“You are such a-”
“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room.
“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed.
“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending.
“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted.
“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter.
When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried.
Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.”
“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”
“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.
“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl.
“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit.
“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.
“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-”
It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped.
“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly.
“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you.
You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously.
They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument.
You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong.
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You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often.
Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock.
Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.
“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.”
“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer.
“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos.
“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go.
“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile.
“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room.
“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics.
“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it.
As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up.
If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so.
This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you.
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The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument.
You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this.
If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it.
You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope.
Alexia had responded first.
It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.
Alba responded after that.
You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.
You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.
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You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today.
You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later.
You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later.
“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder.
You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible.
“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.
You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.”
“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look.
“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.”
Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.”
You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.
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You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included.
That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall.
The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image.
You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous.
You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically.
You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful.
You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song.
More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters.
Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly.
You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her.
They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.
You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation.
“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face.
“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?”
You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters.
Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck!
Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.
You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come.
A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt.
“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly.
“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head.
“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.”
You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others.
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Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right.
She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face.
“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly.
Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?”
Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.”
Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset.
“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.”
Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.”
Eli chuckled. “I will.”
She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that.
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You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you.
“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed.
“I know, mija, I am so sorry.”
“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.”
Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t.
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It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life.
Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.
“Mami, I-”
“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.”
“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach.
“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”
“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.”
“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were.
“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life.
Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it.
Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you.
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Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch.
Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?”
Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba.
It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said.
“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister.
“We really did.” Alba replied.
“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared.
“We really do.” Alba agreed.
“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?”
“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face.
Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.”
“New car?”
“New house?”
“Can we buy her a country?”
They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior.
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The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset.
You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face.
“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently.
“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged.
“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you.
Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands.
“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them.
“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?”
“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this.
“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly.
“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?”
Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her.
“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped.
Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that.
“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.”
Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?”
“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse.
“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety.
“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’”
“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head.
“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.”
At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot.
“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer.
With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.”
Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore.
“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments.
Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work.
-------
Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in.
Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself.
“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?”
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face.
Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes.
“Do you think that is enough?” You asked.
Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.”
Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway.
“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight.
It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you.
“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you.
You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting.
You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears.
Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters.
Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot.
Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed.
Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you.
It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special.
You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself.
You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught.
“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other.
They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction.
“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered.
“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”
And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be.
When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands.
It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get.
-------
Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands.
And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted.
“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands.
“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.”
Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded.
“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly.
“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it.
“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.”
“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-”
Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit.
“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.”
Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed.
Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be.
-------
it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.
everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.
hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#alexia putellas x reader#putellas!reader#platonic reader
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The Fall from the Heavens (27)
[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.
Or at least she thought he had.
His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.
He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.
However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.
She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.
I am proud of you.
Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.
Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.
With this, she finally felt equal to him.
Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.
She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.
He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.
Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.
She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.
She was no longer welcome here.
She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.
"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.
"Me too."
As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.
At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.
"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.
"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.
She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.
"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.
"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.
As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.
She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.
It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.
She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.
"− is this here? −" He asked casually.
She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.
"− yes −"
She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.
She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.
Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.
"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.
She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.
Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.
It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.
"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.
"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.
Not after what they had managed to accomplish.
"Let's go to bed."
She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.
She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.
She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.
She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.
So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.
She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.
Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.
She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.
After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.
She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.
"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.
She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.
Was he having nightmares again?
Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?
"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.
"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.
She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.
"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.
She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.
He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.
"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.
"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.
He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.
"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.
"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.
"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.
"− yes −"
Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.
"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.
My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.
"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"
"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"
She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.
She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.
She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.
"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.
He did not answer.
"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.
She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.
She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.
He was vulnerable.
"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"
"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.
"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.
From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.
He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.
She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.
"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"
"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.
She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.
He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.
"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"
She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.
She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.
Had she really never hidden anything from him?
Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.
She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?
She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.
"− tell me −" He whispered.
She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.
So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?
"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"
"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.
"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.
"− what could this mean? −"
"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.
She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.
"− forgive me −"
She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.
No.
"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.
"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.
"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.
Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.
"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.
She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.
"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.
She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.
She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.
"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.
The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.
She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.
She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.
She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.
He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.
He did not know what to say.
Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.
"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"
"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.
Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.
Good, she thought.
She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.
"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.
"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.
She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.
"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.
She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.
He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.
One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.
"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.
He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.
She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.
"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.
As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.
"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.
They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.
"− let's sit down −"
Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.
"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.
Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.
"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"
"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.
She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.
She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.
It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.
"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.
"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.
She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.
"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.
"− I know −"
They fell silent for a moment.
"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.
I don't know.
"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"
They said no more.
She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.
She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.
She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.
He had returned to King's Landing without her.
She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.
She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.
Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.
She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.
She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.
She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.
"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.
"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.
"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.
"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.
"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.
"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"
She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.
They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.
"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.
"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"
"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"
Gods.
"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.
She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.
"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"
"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.
"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.
"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.
Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.
"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"
"− you mocked me with Aegon −"
"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.
What was she supposed to answer him?
"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"
"− you are a traitor −"
"− how dare you −"
"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"
A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.
She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.
"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"
Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.
What would Baela say if she saw this?
It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.
She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.
That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.
She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.
When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.
She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.
"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.
He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.
"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.
"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.
"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.
Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.
Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.
"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"
"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.
An opportunity for confrontation.
"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.
"− Aemond, that's enough −"
"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.
She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.
She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.
"− we are leaving −"
"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"
"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"
"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.
"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.
"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.
"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.
She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.
"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.
"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.
Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.
Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.
"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.
"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.
He grinned.
"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.
Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.
They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.
"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.
When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.
"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.
She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.
"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.
She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.
"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.
"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.
"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"
He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.
"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.
"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.
She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.
Gods, no.
"− don't touch me −"
She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.
She knew he was hard.
She knew he wanted to soften her up.
"Mmm."
She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.
She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.
She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.
She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.
She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.
Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.
"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"
She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.
"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.
"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.
"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.
Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.
"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.
His seed.
Gods.
She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.
"− let me embrace you −"
"− no −"
She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.
"− move away, uncle −"
"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"
"− your wife does not wish for this −"
"− sleep −"
She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond smut#aemond angst#aemond fanfic#canon aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond#aemond one eye#prince aemond#hotd fanfic#prince aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#aemond x original female character#aemond x original character#aemond x female#aemond hotd#house of the dragon#hotd fandom#hotd fic#hotd fanfiction#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell smut#ewan mitchell angst#ewan mitchell fanfiction#ewan mitchell fanfic#aemond x niece
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AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?
Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.
So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).
Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.
My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.
So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.
I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.
The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.
It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.
Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.
One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.
T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.
So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.
Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.
The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.
I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.
He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.
The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.
I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".
This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.
I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.
Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.
So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.
Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.
TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?
#aita#am i the asshole#suicide cw#not sure if it's needed for a dnd character death but just to be safe
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Hello there!
Can you do a fluff request with Tech please.
6. Dance with me? And 13. Shut up and kiss me already.
Your writing is amazing and so very inspiring x
Choices 🌊
🫧 Pairing: Tech X Female Reader
word count: 1.6k
Prompts:
“Dance with me?”
“Shut up and kiss me already.”
Summary: When a date stands you up, Tech finally takes the chance to make a move.
Warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Reader gets Stood Up, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Female Reader.
Authors note: Thanks for the request and kind words! Enjoy 😊
You twirl the ice cubes in your nearly empty glass with your yellow and pink striped straw, the thumping music of the club fading into the background as the realisation sinks in: you've been stood up.
You had decided to navigate the dating scene to which had been a rollercoaster. After realising your feelings weren't going to be ever reciprocated by the one you truly loved, you decided to broaden your horizons. Maybe taking your mind off him. So, you signed up for a dubious dating site on the holonet which only yielded disappointing results, to put it mildly.
Match after match failed to impress. They either droned on about themselves, were impolite to the staff, or made cringe-worthy remarks that you just don’t say on a first date. It was a string of bad experiences. And now, the guy you'd been chatting with for weeks had ghosted you.
Glancing at the clock above the bar, you signal to the service droid. "Could I have another one of these, please?" you request, motioning to your empty glass. The droid beeps in confirmation before attending to your order.
Sighing, you slump your head into your hands, regretting the effort you put into dressing up for this date, only to end up drinking alone. But, your solitude is short-lived.
As you're about to pay for your drink, a hand intercepts yours, and you look up in surprise to see a familiar pair of goggles and eyes, offering to foot the bill. "Allow me."
"Tech? What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you since you didn't respond to any of our messages," Tech explains, settling onto the stool beside you and leaning forward on the bar. "Where is he?"
You pause, considering whether to lie or not. After all, it was Tech whom you truly loved. Despite your attempts at flirting, his lack of response or reciprocation left you hesitant to confess your feelings.
Others would advise you to tell him straight rather than hint but the fear of rejection loomed large, so you let your emotions for him simmer but never fully blossom. "He didn't show," you finally admit with a sigh, tracing your arm with your fingertips.
"Oh," Tech responds, and you nurse your new drink, the silence between you turning somewhat awkward.
"Thanks for the drink, by the way," you say, breaking the quiet, and he offers a light smile.
"Not a problem. I apologise about your date not turning up. It is his loss," Tech says, his words eliciting a flutter in your stomach that you try to ignore.
You offer a dry laugh and a shrug before taking a sip through the straw. "Thanks, Tech. I'll probably finish this and head out."
Tech pauses, glancing around. "There aren't many patrons here. I’m relieved your date didn't show. It is not ideal to be in such a quiet club with few witnesses if something were to go wrong."
You pull a face at his caution. "Why say that?"
"You never know who you might encounter on the holonet. Choosing a very quiet club isn't the safest option," he explains, prompting an eye roll from you as you take another sip of your drink.
Then, you ask him, "So, where would you take someone on a date?"
He falls silent, his gaze drifting into contemplation. "I have pondered, in theory, that if I were to pursue someone, I would opt for a restaurant. Establishing eye contact is pivotal, followed by discussions about our lives. Then, perhaps, a stroll."
You hum softly, resisting the urge to picture yourself as his date, seated across from him, indulging in delectable cuisine as he shares his sentiments, followed by a romantic walk. "That sounds lovely. They’d be very lucky."
"I'm pleased you think so. Now, I pose the same question to you, as I doubt this club aligns with your idea of a first date," he counters as he does a brief scan of the area, prompting a laugh from you—he's not entirely wrong.
"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. It depends on whether I like the person or not. I'd prefer to be with someone I enjoy doing something with, rather than doing something with someone I don't," you admit, reminiscing about the countless hours you spent simply conversing with Tech in the cockpit.
A smile graces his lips at your words. "That's endearing."
You take another sip of your drink, emptying it in a few swallows before sighing and preparing to depart. "I should be on my way."
"Very well," Tech nods, but a sudden surge of courage overtakes him as he grasps your upper arm, halting your departure. "What about dancing?"
You glance at his hand on your arm, then up at him with furrowed brows. "What about it?"
"Do you... enjoy it?" he asks, his apprehension palpable as he carefully selects his words.
"I can't say I've had much experience with it. Why do you ask?" you inquire, feeling your heart quicken as he rises and steps closer.
"Dance with me?" he proposes.
You? Dance with Tech? Was this some bizarre turn of events, or perhaps a dream induced by something that Droid had put in your drink? "You don't dance," you blurt out, puzzled by his unexpected request.
He chuckles at your incredulous expression and your swift observation of his lack of dancing skills. "No, I do not. But, I don't see why we both can't give it a try together."
Part of you hopes that you detected a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, perhaps stemming from the fact that he's asking you to dance rather than his own dancing abilities. So, you offer a shy smile and nod. "Okay then."
His smile widens, his eyes gleaming behind his goggles as he releases your arm and gestures for you to lead the way to the main dance floor. The music pulses softly, with a gentle rhythm that invites movement. The deep purple strobe lights dancing off your bodies.
Neither of you seem entirely sure of what to do next, exchanging uncertain glances until he clears his throat and extends his hand to you. Your cheeks warm while your fingers slip into his as he draws you closer, his other hand finding its place on your hip as yours rests on his opposite shoulder.
You initiate a small side step, and Tech follows suit, occasionally glancing down at your feet before meeting your gaze. "This is unexpected... but nice," you murmur softly, even as your whole body tingles with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
A part of you cautions against letting your hopes get the better of you, reminding you that this shouldn't be happening. Yet, as you lock eyes with him, he holds your gaze, a rare silence settling between you. And he always has something to say.
Drawing you closer than before, your cheek rests against his chest as the two of you sway to the music, his chin gently resting atop your head. "May I ask you a question?" he ventures after a minute or two.
"Uh-huh," you reply, your eyes fluttering closed as you savour the moment.
"Why did you not choose me?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberates in the stillness of the moment.
Your eyes flutter open, and you tilt your head back, peering up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. The dim light of the club casts a soft glow on his face, illuminating the earnestness in his gaze. "What do you mean?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, hardly audible over the pulsating music.
He bites the inside of his cheek, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he readjusts his goggles with a practiced hand. "You've... flirted with me on numerous occasions," he explains, his tone careful and measured, "yet you chose to pursue someone else."
His words leave you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to comprehend the implications of his confession. He knew about your attempts at flirting? The realisation sends a shiver down your spine. "Tech," you begin, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows, "you never indicated that you wanted me to stop, or that you felt the same way. I just assumed..."
"That I did not share the same feelings you have for me? That I could not?” His voice is soft, yet it carries a weight that hangs in the air between you.
"Do you?" you whisper, feeling the flutter of anticipation in your chest, your heart pounding against your ribs as if seeking escape from the intensity of the moment.
He nods solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admits, "Expressing emotions is not exactly second nature to me. It was not until the others pointed out your advances that I realised it was too late to respond."
As he starts to explain, his words tumbling out in a rush, you can't help but notice the warmth spreading across his cheeks, the nervous energy that radiates from him. It's endearing, seeing him flustered like this, and it emboldens you to take action.
Releasing his hand from your grasp, you reach up to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "Shut up and kiss me already.”
Tone soft but resolute, a playful glint dancing in your eyes has him leaning into you without a second thought.
His lips meet yours in a tender and hesitant touch. Warm. Soft. They were everything you had imagined. Everything around you seems to vanish, just you and him caught in the moment. Then, you can feel him smile against your lips as he draws you near, body flushed to his as his lips move along with yours with a gentle passion.
As he pulls away for a breath, both of your heartbeats shattering your eardrums, he smiles lovingly at you. “Do not hesitate to tell me to shut up and kiss you again.”
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All For Us (Lewis Hamilton SMAU)
SUMMARY: Lewis Hamilton secretly dates an older woman with a daughter and the public slowly starts connecting the dots. [smau w/narrative]
PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x influencer!OC Bree King (faceclaim is Sasha Exeter)
WARNINGS: verbal/emotional abuse from an ex, drama, age gap romance (Bree is 2 years older than Lewis), formula one b.s., pre-established relationship, step-daddy Lewis. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!
TAGLIST: @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @motheroffae @hrlzy @xoscar03
A/N: Read the warnings!! This oneshot may be triggering!! Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore
Lewis grinned as Bree's face appeared on his FaceTime screen. "There she is! My favorite lady."
"I should hope that's still the case," Bree teased with a wink before turning her head. "Sloane, baby, come say hi to Lewis!"
A moment later, Bree's eight-year-old daughter popped into view, her face lighting up with excitement. "Lewis! Hi!!"
"Hey there, Sloane!" Lewis' smile widened. "Having fun at camp?"
The little girl nodded vigorously. "It's so cool! We went canoeing yesterday and I caught the biggest frog ever!"
"No way, that's amazing!" Lewis played along. "You'll have to show me next time I see you. Which is actually why I FaceTimed..." He glanced at Bree, who gave him an encouraging nod before he proceeded. "I was wondering if you and your mom are still planning to come to my race in Montreal next week?" he asked Sloane. "It'll be my last chance to see you before you go back to school."
"YES!!" Sloane pumped her fist in the air emphatically. "We're definitely coming! I can't wait!"
Bree chuckled fondly and ruffled her daughter's hair. As her eyes met Lewis again over the video call, her expression was full of meaning.
Though keeping their relationship under wraps wasn't easy, moments like this made it worth it to Lewis. Having this slice of domestic bliss, however ephemeral, grounded him in a way he never could have imagined before meeting Bree and her daughter. It was a small price to pay for the unexpected joy of finally finding someone who knew the real him - flaws and all.
Their relationship was still so new, barely six months old, but he felt more at peace with Bree than he could have imagined. Bree understood the punishing demands his career brought in a way no one else could. With her own entrepreneurial spirit and drive, she never asked him to compromise his ambition. If anything, she helped stoke it.
Yes, the secrecy could be tedious at times. But Lewis didn't mind. After a lifetime in the spotlight, he relished having this one thing that was just for him and Bree. At least for now.
Race day arrived and Bree made her way through the hustle and bustle of the Montreal Grand Prix paddock. Despite Sloane's excitement in the lead-up, her father had pulled one of his typical selfish moves at the last minute by insisting on taking her to the zoo that day instead.
Bree felt that familiar pang of disappointment mixed with resignation. Her ex had been more of a sperm donor than an actual parent to their daughter from the day Sloane was born. He only seemed to appear when it was convenient for him, not Sloane.
Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Bree focused on the thrill of being here to support Lewis. As an influencer, she had initially been given paddock access through her partnership with Peroni, but over the last few months, as her relationship with Lewis intensified, racing had become personal.
"You must be Bree!" She spun around at the greeting to see a tall, stocky man striding towards her, hand outstretched. Spinz stood around six-foot-three and was built like a linebacker, with a lightly tanned skin tone. His smile was kind and friendly as he enthusiastically shook her hand. "I'm Daniel, but you can call me Spinz."
"It's so great to finally meet you! Lewis has told me loads about you," Bree mentioned happily.
"Likewise," Spinz replied genuinely. "I've heard so many stories, it's nice to finally put a face to the name."
Lewis and she had been intentionally slow about intermingling friends and family. They didn't want to rush things before they were both exclusive and comfortable, yet now that Sloane had grown so fond of Lewis, it felt right to begin that integration.
"Can't believe my man is finally bringing his girlfriend around the paddock!" Spinz continued, laughing delightedly. "Bout time, if you ask me." This emitted a chuckle from Bree. "Well, since you're finally here, allow me to give you the grand tour," Spinz offered, gesturing for her to follow him. "Lewis is still doing his pre-race routine, but I can show you around until he's free."
Bree nodded eagerly, falling into step beside the towering Spinz as he led them through the controlled chaos of the paddock. He pointed out the various team garages, the hospitality suites, and regaled her with funny behind-the-scenes stories from past races.
Despite the unfamiliar environment, Bree instantly felt at ease with Spinz's warm presence and easy banter. She could understand why he and Lewis had been mates for so long. There was an affable authenticity to him that put her instantly at ease.
"And this...is the sacred ground," Spinz proclaimed dramatically as they walked inside the Mercedes garage. "Though I suppose for you, it's more like hallowed ground at this point, eh?" He elbowed her teasingly.
Bree laughed, shoving him back playfully. "That's one way to put it, I suppose. I have to admit, seeing this side of his life up close is still taking some getting used to."
Before Spinz could respond, a familiar voice spoke out. "Hi, baby."
Bree shifted her gaze to see Lewis walking over to them, clad in his racing suit. His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses as he pulled her into an embrace. She melted into his arms, inhaling his familiar warm scent.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, gorgeous. Pre-race craziness, you know how it is," Lewis murmured, lowering his voice. "But I'm all yours now."
He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. Even with the smile on his face, Bree could sense that something seemed a bit off with him.
"How are you?" Bree asked gently.
Lewis let out an exasperated sigh. "Comme ci, comme ça." He made a wavering 'so-so' gesture with his hand to emphasize his point.
Bree's expression was knowing. "Ah, I see." With a slow blink, she decided not to pry further for now.
"Let's not worry about that now, okay?" Lewis gave her a lopsided grin, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Everything good with you? How was the tour with Spinz?"
"Great, Spinz was awesome. Thank you again for the tour," Bree replied, smiling at Lewis' friend.
Spinz waved it off. "No problem at all. I'll leave you two to it. Lew, I'll catch up with you later?"
"Of course, man." Lewis pulled Spinz in for one of their signature dap-up handshake hugs before his friend departed.
"Now that that's out of the way..." Lewis trailed off, snaking his arms around Bree's waist and pulling her close. "I can finally kiss you like I've been wanting to."
"Oh, so it's like that, Sir Hamilton?" Bree teased, removing his sunglasses to gaze into his warm brown eyes. "There, that's better. I can actually see those pretty eyes of yours now."
Lewis batted his lashes exaggeratedly. "You like what you see, huh? I could get used to all this flattery."
With that, he leaned in and captured her lips in a lingering, tender kiss, the troubles of the earlier melting away as he lost himself in her being.
Bree paced near the gate, phone pressed to her ear as she listened to her ex-husband's latest tirade.
"You're really going to let some race car driver try to one-up me as a father figure for Sloane? Come on, Bree. This guy is just a fling - he'll get bored of playing house eventually and leave you high and dry."
She bristled at his condescending tone, upset rising in her chest. Before she could snap back, her gaze landed on Sloane sitting nearby. The little girl was utterly engrossed, flipping through a "Formula One for Kids" book in preparation for their time at Silverstone.
The sight of her daughter's pure, unbridled excitement instantly calmed Bree's anger. She took a steadying breath before responding.
"You know what, you're right - you shouldn't be threatened because unlike you, Lewis actually shows up for Sloane," she stated evenly. "He's been more of a parent to her in six months than you have her whole life."
There was an indignant sputtering on the other end, but Bree kept talking before he could interject.
"Don't project your guilt about being an absentee dad onto my relationship. This isn't about you. It's about giving our daughter some stability and male role model who wants to be present."
The overhead speaker crackled to life, an announcement requesting they begin boarding their flight to Paris. Bree knew she needed to hang up now if they wanted to make it.
"I'm done wasting my time on this. We're boarding now. Maybe next time you can join us instead of just criticizing from the sidelines." She ended the call with a tap before he could respond.
Turning to Sloane, Bree plastered on a brilliant smile, letting the contentment of this new chapter wash over her.
"You ready for our adventure, baby girl?"
Sloane beamed up at her mother, curls bouncing as she nodded enthusiastically. "So ready! This is gonna be the best vacation ever!"
As they joined the line to board, hand-in-hand, Bree felt a swell of gratitude. Her daughter deserved all the happiness in the world - and she'd do whatever it took to provide it, with or without Sloane's father.
-------------------------------------------------
"No, no, you've got the lyrics all wrong!" Sloane collapsed in a fit of giggles as Lewis dramatically belted out his very off-key rendition of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" from Encanto, which was playing on the TV.
"What are you talking about? This is exactly how it goes!" Lewis protested, bopping around their hotel suite and encouraging Sloane to sing and dance along with him.
Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.
As the next song from the movie came on, Lewis grabbed Sloane's hands and started twirling her around in an impromptu dance number. Sloane squealed with laughter, trying her best to follow his goofy choreography.
Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.
Despite having to attend a couple of fashion shows, Lewis insisted on making the most of their time together. He had kicked things off with a surprise shopping trip that morning to Dior, allowing Bree and Sloane to play dress-up before walking away with an entirely new boutique-worthy wardrobe.
From there, it was on to take in the splendor of Parisian culture and sights. They strolled along the Champs-Élysées, stopping to snack on crispy crepes and macarons. Lewis delighted in teaching Sloane a few French phrases, though she quickly realized he was cheekily mispronouncing things.
As evening fell, Lewis whisked them away to a breathtaking circus show at Cirque Phénix. Sloane's eyes were saucers the entire time as she watched the daring acrobats and exotic animals perform. When it was over, she kept asking "How did they DO that?!" in awed tones.
Finally, they capped the night off with a decadent multi-course dinner at an acclaimed family-owned bistro. Even Sloane was lured into trying cuisine well beyond her usual mac-and-cheese comfort zone.
Now, lounging in their luxury hotel after baths, it was the perfect way to wind down after a memory-making day. Lewis intentionally kept the mood light and fun, perhaps sensing Bree needed a break from any lingering emotional fallout after her ex's cruel words.
Lewis and Sloane collapsed in a giggling heap on the suite's plush rug, exhausted but elated. Pressing kisses to Sloane's flushed cheeks, Lewis grinned contentedly.
"Best day ever, right team?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
As the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend approached, Lewis became adamant that Bree and Sloane finally meet his family. They would all be in attendance on Sunday to cheer him on at his beloved home race.
"It's time," he stated firmly one night as they relaxed together in bed. "You two are the most important people in my life now. I want my family to really know you both."
Bree felt a flutter of nerves, knowing this was a big step. In all his years as a global celebrity, Lewis had only ever brought one other woman home to meet his parents and siblings - his ex-girlfriend from years ago. There hadn't been anyone serious enough since then to warrant those introductions, until Bree came along.
Saturday night arrived, and Bree smoothed her hands down the summer dress she had carefully selected. She caught a glimpse of her anxious expression in the mirror and exhaled slowly.
Get it together, she scolded herself.
So what if she was a few years older than Lewis, and a single mom at that? His family seemed warm and supportive based on what little she knew. Surely they wouldn't judge her too harshly, right?
The sudden image of them dismissing her as some gold-digging cougar flashed through Bree's mind before she could stop it. She shook her head firmly. Those were her own insecurities talking, not reality.
"You ready, gorgeous?" Lewis' voice pulled her from her reverie. He stood in the doorway, Sloane's little hand clasped securely in his own.
Bree managed a tremulous smile and nodded. "As I'll ever be. Let's do this."
They made their way to the private dining room at Dishoon's, where Lewis' family awaited. The moment they entered, multiple pairs of eyes widened almost comically at the picture before them - Lewis holding Sloane's hand while his other arm wrapped protectively around Bree's waist.
Bree felt her cheeks warm as the hushed murmurs started. Lewis simply grinned, surveying the room with an almost smug satisfaction.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet the two leading ladies in my life..." he began by way of introduction. "This is Bree and Sloane."
What followed was a cheerful commotion of hugs, back slaps and well-wishes as Lewis deftly made the rounds. To Bree's relief, his family seemed just as warm and gregarious as he had described.
If anything, they seemed impressed by her vibrant spirit and career accomplishments. Lewis' father in particular was delighted to discover Bree's Caribbean heritage, insisting they were practically "family already."
At one point, Lewis was gently pulled aside by his mother, Carmen. Concern furrowed the older woman's brow as she studied her son intently.
"So...what do you think of her, Mum?" Lewis asked almost shyly.
Carmen's expression softened as she glanced over at where Bree and Nicola were giggling together. "I think...I haven't seen you look this happy and fully yourself in a long time, sweetie."
She reached up to cup Lewis' cheek, her eyes shining with emotion. "That girl clearly adores you. And you've already taken her little one into your heart as well."
Lewis' smile was beatific as he covered his mother's hand with his own. "She's the one, Mum. I'm going to marry her someday."
Carmen arched an eyebrow, though her tone remained gentle. "Are you ready for that? To be a father to that little girl, and take on all those responsibilities?"
Lewis didn't hesitate. "More than ready," he stated with conviction. "Bree and Sloane...they're my world now. I can't imagine my life without them in it."
Pulling his mother into a firm embrace, Lewis felt his heart swell almost to bursting. For so many years, this kind of profound contentment had eluded him despite all his success. But somehow, fate had brought these two incredible ladies into his life. And he would spend every day showing them how indescribably grateful he was.
As they prepared for their upcoming trip to Grenada, articles started appearing in The Sun and The Daily Mail hinting that Lewis was dating Bree. Twitter was going crazy, with Lewis' massive fandom mostly showing support, especially after photos and videos surfaced of him with Sloane at the Silverstone race weekend. Sloane had been put 'in charge' of caring for Lewis' beloved English bulldog, Roscoe, and both she and the dog were practically attached to Lewis' hip the entire time.
Meanwhile, Sloane's father was up in arms once more about the apparent relationship. Bree's phone rang with the sperm donor himself on the other line.
"How dare you let that race car driver get so close to my child!" he yelled. "He thinks he can just swoop in and play dad now?"
"I mean someone has to do it," Bree muttered under her breath.
"I'm going to sue for full custody if you keep letting that man around my daughter!" Sloane's father shouted over the phone. "You're just a useless whore letting any man walk all over you!"
It was at that moment that Lewis came walking into the kitchen, having just finished playing in the backyard with Sloane. He immediately sensed the tension on Bree's face.
"Give me the phone," Lewis said firmly, holding his hand out.
Bree shook her head, not wanting to subject him to her ex's vitriol. But then the man's voice came through again.
Lewis' jaw clenched and he commanded again, "The phone, Bree. Now."
Reluctantly, she passed it over, her eyes apologetic. Lewis gave her a reassuring nod before putting the phone to his ear. "Who the fuck do you think you are, speaking to her like that?" he said sternly.
"Who do YOU think you are?" the man retorted. "You have no right getting cozy with my kid!"
Lewis' expression hardened. "I care deeply about both Bree and Sloane," he stated firmly. "And I'll be damned if I let you disrespect them like this."
"You think you can just insert yourself into my daughter's life?" Sloane's father sneered. "Playing father figure and getting handsy with her mother? Over my dead fuckin' body."
She opened her mouth to let loose a blistering retort, but Lewis squeezed her shoulder lightly.
"Listen here, mate," Lewis' voice was low but resonant with conviction. "I love that little girl as if she were my own flesh and blood. Sloane is everything to me, to us. And I'll be damned if you try to keep us apart with your selfishness and toxic presence."
Bree's breath caught at the fierce protectiveness in Lewis' words. She covered his hand with her own, lending him her strength.
On the other end, Sloane's father sputtered indignantly before finding his voice again. "You arrogant prick! You can't just—"
"That's enough." Lewis's words sliced through the man's tirade like a whip. "Your disrespect ends now. And if you continue speaking to Bree this way, you'll never see Sloane again."
There was a pause on the other end. "Is that a threat?" Sloane's father spat.
"No," Lewis said coldly. "It's a promise." He disconnected the call and turned his full attention to Bree, wrapping his arms around her firmly. "How long has he been talking to you like that, love?"
Bree let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. "Not long...just when we started getting serious."
Lewis scoffed, rolling his eyes at her ex's audacity. The man had been absent for most of Sloane's life, and now that another man was stepping up, he wanted to play father?
"Next time he does that, record it," Lewis instructed. "Take it to your lawyers. I don't want that piece of shit thinking he can verbally abuse you however he pleases. He's going to fuck around and end up in a ditch somewhere if he keeps going down this road."
Bree searched his eyes intently. "You would...kill for me? For us?"
"Yes." Lewis met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'd do anything for you and Sloane. Anything at all."
The fierceness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.
-------------------------------------------------
Bree sighed contentedly as she gazed out at the pristine Grenadian beach. So much had happened so quickly - meeting Lewis' friends and family, being accepted into their fold almost instantly alongside Sloane, yet it all felt so natural, like the missing pieces finally clicking into place.
Her eyes shielded from the brilliant sun, she watched as Lewis chased the waves with Sloane, both of them shrieking with laughter. He looked utterly gorgeous with his toned, tattooed physique glistening with saltwater, the picture-perfect image of a doting father. The idea of giving Sloane a sibling, with Lewis as the dad, sounded unexpectedly appealing. Though she had a few eggs frozen, she wondered if pregnancy at her age would be difficult, but as scary as that thought was, she couldn't fathom being with anyone else. Their seven month relationship felt more profound than any bond she'd ever known.
Down the beach, Lewis was helping Sloane construct an elaborate sandcastle, patting the wet sand into turrets.
"Lewis?" Sloane piped up suddenly.
"Yes, princess?"
"Do you love my mom?"
He smiled warmly. "Yes, I do. Very much. And I love you too."
Sloane beamed, delighted by his answer. "Will you marry my mom then? My parents were married but then they got divorced."
Lewis' heart melted at her hopeful expression. "You want me to make an honest woman out of your mum?"
She nodded vigorously. "I just want her to be happy."
"I promise I'll do everything I can to make you both happy," he vowed. "But would it be okay with you, if I married your mum?"
"Duh!" Sloane rolled her eyes dramatically. "I already think of you as my bonus dad."
Lewis felt his throat tighten with emotion at Sloane's words. This amazing little girl and her mother had utterly stolen his heart.
Gently, he pulled Sloane into a hug, resting his chin atop her head. "You know I love you like you're my own daughter, right? You and your mum are everything to me."
Sloane nodded against his chest. "I know. That's why you should marry her." She pulled back to look up at him with those big, innocent eyes. "Will you be my dad for real then?"
"Of course, princess," Lewis murmured, brushing the sandy hair from her face. "If your mum will have me, I'd be honored to be your dad in every way that matters."
Sloane grinned, throwing her little arms around his neck excitedly. Down the beach, Bree watched the tender scene with a wistful smile. She could clearly see the love between Lewis and her daughter - it was undeniable.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, Lewis glanced over and raised a hand in a beckoning wave. Bree rose fluidly to her feet and made her way over, sandals dangling from one hand.
"Everything okay over here?" she asked lightly as she approached.
Lewis stood, pulling Bree flush against his side with his free arm. "More than okay," he replied, dropping a kiss on her salty hair. "We're building a sandcastle estate and could use the extra hands, right Sloane?" Sloane was too busy packing buckets full of wet sand into elaborate castle molds to answer and Lewis shrugged. "Alrighty then, let's get to work."
As they worked together under the warm sun, Bree couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments of simple joy with the little family she created.
The Las Vegas Grand Prix was in full swing, and Lewis was basking in the excitement of being publicly "Instagram official" with Bree. He had Bree by his side, and he was so happy to be able to publicly show off their relationship.
It wasn't that he cared what anyone else thought - Lewis had never been one to seek approval or validation from others. But having Bree by his side made everything feel more real, more solid. She was his rock, his anchor in this wild world of racing. These last few months, although crazy at times, were the best memories to experience with Bree.
And she looked stunning as always. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves and her fitted red dress hugged her curves in all the right places. She was by Lewis' side through all the glitzy festivities and parties surrounding the race weekend, including the launch of his Almave pop-up bar. With Sloane spending the weekend with Bree's mother, it was a kid-free getaway, and he intended to take full advantage.
He knew Bree's ex-husband would be fuming seeing pictures of them together online, but Lewis didn't give two flying fucks about him anymore. He was focused solely on Bree and the profound happiness she brought him. Bree's arm was looped through his as they made their way through the crowded VIP party for the race sponsors. He greeted familiar faces with warmth and charm, introducing her to everyone he knew.
"You're a natural at this," Lewis remarked as they headed towards the bar for some much-needed drinks.
Bree laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, I'm just winging it."
He shook his head in mock disapproval as they approached the bar. "Don't sell yourself short," he said seriously before turning to order their drinks.
_____________________________________
After dinner one evening at their hotel's high-end restaurant, fans swarmed Lewis for autographs as they exited. "You're a lucky man," one told him, eyeing Bree appreciatively. "She's gorgeous."
Lewis' arm tightened around her waist. "I know," he said simply, pride warming his tone.
Back in their suite, they came together in a heated clash of lips and roving hands, shedding clothes as they stumbled towards the bedroom. Bree reveled in the hard planes of Lewis' body, tracing the lines of his tattoos as he worshipped her with his mouth.
He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her to bed, laying her down gently before joining on top of her, settling between her legs. Their bodies fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces as they moved together in a rhythm that felt almost too familiar now.
Every time they made love was like a brand new experience for them both. They never grew tired of exploring each other's bodies or finding new ways to pleasure one another.
In between stolen kisses and whispered declarations of love, they lost themselves completely in each other until they reached that explosive climax. Afterwards, they lay sated and tangled in the plush hotel linens. Bree traced idle patterns across Lewis' chest as he tucked her against his side.
"Have you thought about getting married again?" he asked quietly.
Bree's head whipped up in surprise. "Here? In Vegas?"
Lewis chuckled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "No, love. No offense to others, but I could never get married here. I meant...in a year or two, maybe. With me."
Her breath caught at the meaningful weight behind his words. "I...actually think about that a lot," she admitted shyly. "I can see us having a future together."
Warmth bloomed in Lewis' eyes. "You can?"
Bree nodded, feeling herself get swept up in the thrilling certainty of what she felt for this man. "Yes. A real future - marriage, forever."
Lewis looked utterly overjoyed as he cupped her face tenderly. "Okay then...future Lady Hamilton."
A startled laugh bubbled up from Bree's lips. "Lady Hamilton? Is that what I'll be since you're Sir Lewis?"
"Precisely." His grin was terribly smug. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"It sounds like some character from Bridgerton!" she giggled, swatting his chest playfully.
Lewis joined in her mirth, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. "I can see the resemblance."
Bree's laughter slowly faded as she gazed at the man she loved with every fiber of her being.
Her future husband - it had a deliciously appealing ring to it.
The End.....or is it?
#all for us#sir lewis hamilton#emjayewrites#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton fanfic#sir lewis hamilton x black!reader#lewis hamilton x black!reader#lewis hamilton x oc
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Drabble for braiding yelenas hair?
Drabble || The Little Things
Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader
Summary: Yelena gets a call and has to go on a mission, but not before you've helped her get ready.
Fluff
Warnings: None. This is not proof-read or corrected! | 0.4K
Translations: detka (baby)
AC: Oh to be able to run my fingers through my little spicy Russian's hair 😍, thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x
Yelena walked into the living room to see you already set up and ready for her. She had just gotten off the phone and was coming to tell you that she would be away for a few days. You always knew that if Yelena ever had to take a call out of the room it was most likely a job for her to do.
"Come sit" you smiled, "I've got everything ready" you added as Yelena walked towards you and sat on the floor with her back resting against the sofa. You grabbed the hair brush and began to softly brush through her short blonde locks.
"I'll only be gone a week" Yelena said, closing her eyes to relax as you ran the brush through her hair. This is one of her favourite things, having you braid her hair. She loved how soft and gentle you were, it gave her a peace of mind before we would have to go off and do what she'd been trained to do.
"It'll go by quickly" you assured her, "before you know it, you'll be back here just in time for our weekly face masks" you added with a chuckle.
"If anybody knew that you pampered me up like that, I'd be the core of every joke" Yelena replied, shaking her head.
"Keep your head still or you'll become the laughing stock of a different joke" you said, laughing. You grabbed the spray bottle and began to part the Russian's hair, "now, do you want it up or down?" you asked.
"Up please detka" Yelena replied, allowing herself to relax even more, throwing her head back a little more for you. You couldn't help but smile to yourself when you saw that her eyes were closed and she was at peace for the time being.
You began to part her hair and do sections at a time, twirling and twisting bit by bit, pining here and there all while Yelena enjoyed the little downtime she had left. She would chuckle every time you would apologise for 'hurting' her, you never hurt her but she thought it was adorable that you thought you did.
"Almost done my love" you said, placing a kiss on her forehead.
"Already?" Yelena asked, a little disappointed that she would soon have to gather her other things.
"Oh crap!" you rolled your eyes, "I stuff up a little, looks like you'll have to sit still for a little longer baby, sorry!" you added with a playful wink when Yelena opened her eyes.
"That's a shame, I thought you were the perfectionist at this" Yelena chuckled.
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self-talks
・❥・aventurine x reader
★ wc: 730+
★ no reader type or pronouns used or specified
★ cw: aventurine is his #1 hater, mentioned death/ways to die, set during 2.1 quest, written by a mentally-tired high schooler, lowercase intended, lazily proofread
★ no summary for this one, notes at the end
★ if you get what’s happening i’ll give you a cupcake
“[name] doesn’t really love you, y’know.”
that voice. the same, agonizing tone that held itself high as if the owner knew every secret in the world. how aventurine hated how it followed him like an ant and he was a basket filled to the brim with succulent insecurities - as if they themselves were ripe, appetizing pieces of fruit.
the tinted shadow, or should he say figured, of himself wouldn’t stop drilling those words into his head. aventurine tried to prevent the words from bothering him but he couldn’t shake them. it was agonizing having to hear his ‘future self’ talk about you as if you thought he was the last pawn left in a chess game, waiting to be used for the greater good.
“that’s not true.”
because he knew you. then again so did he. future is often wiser than present but if that’s the case then why did he feel anxious at his words?
shaking his head like a parent who caught onto their child’s lie, the ‘shadow’ tsked in mock disappointment. “honestly, i thought you were self-aware of the majority of one’s actions. are you so blinded by the scorching love that [name] provides that you cannot even see that you’re burning?”
he wasn’t burning, and you weren’t so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else besides you, either. it was infuriating how this version of him - more of a shell than aventurine was in the present time, hollowed out and left to rot on a tree branch of desolation - seemed to believe that he was wiser than him about the love of their? his life.
aventurine was as loyal as he could be to you without pushing past his boundaries (which were often as weak as a dam made out of twigs when it came to you). he could say the same about you, the absolute truth to anyone but him. bringing a hand up to his hair aventurine scratched it roughly in discomforting thought. all of this ‘he said, he says’ was making him go crazy.
or crazier than he already is in this deforming dreamscape of twisted memories and second-takes. if he ever gets out of this ‘living nightmare’, the first thing he’s going to do is charge up to veritas and-
“i wonder if [name’s] flocked to ratio yet. clutching onto him as soft weeps leave puffy eyes.”
okay, buddy.
“what’s your deal?” aventurine hissed at the amusement drawn on his face, covered hands digging crescent shapes into his gloves. “you seem so adamant in getting me to believe [name] doesn’t love me, yet i’ll probably never-“ cutting himself off with a quick bite down on his tongue, letting it go swiftly when metallic laced his taste.
he couldn’t think like that. that anxious feeling that sunk into his stomach as if it were made of quicksand tried to open and claw its way out of him.
if aventurine could not ever see your face or hear the voice (that he wanted to put on a record and play it repetitively), he feels as if he would rip out all of his hair that you adored combing your fingers through, floss it through his teeth, tie it up, and ha-
a shaky exhale, “there’s a high chance i’ll never see [name] again, so what’s the point of getting me to openly despise everything that pertains to…what’s the point?”
he only smirked in response, the expression on his face was akin to looking in a mirror of opposition to aventurine’s own. he hated how he looked.
oh. so that’s it, huh? could it be that his ‘future’ version seemed to be nothing more than what aventurine himself already imagine what his future would be like, was that it? whom was molded with clay laced with nothing but pure self-hatred without you being there to swat them away.
inhaling sharply, pain shot up through aventurine’s head as he doubled over. he clutched his head and gritted his teeth as if he had a severe brain-freeze, shaking it as he stomped a foot to the ground as if he were in a tantrum. in all honesty, he looked like he was.
puffs of frustration left him as he glanced up, eyes meeting his own heavy, irritated ones as he stared into them with ferocity. “oh aventurine”, he spoke to himself as he blinked away.
“you’ve got to stop talking in mirrors.”
me if writing bad characterization for my fics was hilarious 😹😹😹 seriously though i need to character study him more. take this while i go cry into my pillow over exams 🙏 this didn’t go as i originally had in mind but we ball!!! i hope this flops harder than a fish on a deck after it has just been caught i hate it sm
#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#🍙 - honkai star rail writings#aventurine x reader#looking at it now idk if “x reader” + “x you” is rly for it buttt#aventurine x you#hsr aventurine#aventurine hsr
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~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~
Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC
Eris had never seen his Mate so nervous- to talk to him, anyway.
Even when they had first met she had been nothing but a pain in his backside- a beautiful one no less.
“I have…news.” Came her voice, wavering as she played with her fingers, sliding the grand, shimmering ruby across her ceremonially ringed digit to soothe her.
“I suspect it is bad.” His teased, taking in her soft appearance, taught chest blossoming at the sight of his beloved.
She grinned, but there was a strange sadness to her eye which sent his own heart racing.
“It depends how you feel about it.”
He quirked a brow as she moved to him, perching herself over his thigh, her skirts brushing against his riding boots that were caked in mud.
“My Love, I am filthy-“
“When are you not?” She mocked lightly and he could only roll his eyes in return, gathering her trembling fingers in his own, warming them as he knew she liked.
Without a word she guided one of his calloused hands away from her own, placing it on her lower stomach as she remained perched on his lap.
He was perplexed until he felt it.
Their life force thrumming as one.
He looked at her incredulously and she bit her lip.
He couldn’t breathe.
“A-Another?” He swallowed thickly. “So…So soon?”
“Eri, he is almost four,” she tried to smile, but his gaze was too piercing, focused on her stomach- where their babe guiltlessly lay.
She knew what was wrong.
“He is hardly three,”
His resolve quickly diminished as he felt her disappointment through the bond, her sweet face falling at his words- ones he vowed to never hurt her with.
He heard her breath hitch and that was enough to break him.
“It…It is a blessing.” He breathed out, unconvincingly- but she knew better. “My Love, any child you give me is a greater gift than I could ever ask for-“
“Then why are you so scared?” Her voice was low as she traced his jaw, eyes glassy as he took a deep breath and counted.
One.
His father was dead. He couldn’t hurt her or the child- children.
Two.
She hadn’t died in childbirth. Madja had saved her. She was alive. Her and his firstborn son were okay.
Three-
“Eri…Talk to me…”
He hated this.
Himself.
His own anxieties self sabotaging his relationships with the only people- person he really cared about.
He swallowed thickly before replying, the feel of her delicate skin against his own dragging him back to surface from his suffocating fears. Ones he might have drowned in if not for her addictive salvation.
“Last time.” Was all he could say, jaw taught. “I almost lost you- the both of you.”
“Eri-“
“I am not my father. You…You are more than what your womb can give me- one was enough. More than enough. You are more precious to me than the heirs you may provide.”
“You…You do not want more children?”
She knew her husband was wary about the first, but had hoped he might have been convinced to have more. She was happy to compromise with his darkest fears and stop at two if it meant she could have at least one of each.
“My Love, I would have as many as you would be happy to give me, but…But it is dangerous. The Healers said-“
“Eris.” She was firm, pushing his hand further against her slightly raised stomach. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are High Lord- we have the best Healers at our disposal. After last time-“
She felt him still at the memory, a chilling sense of fear scattering its way down the bond.
“It was a miracle you both survived.” His voice was cold as she ran a hand through his choppy auburn locks, knowing that his reaction was not one of disappointment, but rather sheer unadulterated terror.
Worry for both his Mate and unborn child.
“Eri, we are both okay- we will be okay.”
And then he nodded.
A shaky breath with it, no less.
“Another, then?” Came a breathy half-laugh, his amber eyes glinting in the soft light of the room.
“Another,” she replied, eyes just as glassy, an incredulous smile on her face as he nuzzled his face against her womb, fresh tears of his own gathering against her gown.
If only the first time they had found out had been as simple.
-
“Must you leave me?” Eris drawled against the crown of your head, inhaling the scent as if it were his last drop of water in the vast, dry plains of Summer.
“It is all but only for a few hours you fiery baby,” you teased as he grinned against your silky hair, revelling in its softness against his cheek. “I would extend the invitation to you, though, I am certain you would not be interested in having tea with-“
“If by tea you mean talking about your sinful novels and eating pastries-“
“I’ll have you know we have distinguished talks-“
“About Sellyn Drake?”
“How do you know about Sellyn Drake?”
It was then he went quiet, which made you giggle, leaning into him for support as his hold on you tightened.
“Will you take the guards I have assigned to you? Perhaps too at least three of the hounds-“
“It is my birthplace Eris,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but knew it only came from love. “No guards. No hounds.”
It was then the eldest hound gave a high pitched whine, the very same one that had taken to curling up protectively over your stomach and defying Eris for the first time ever in her meticulously reared existence.
You were lucky he hadn’t caught on.
“How will I survive these awful meetings without knowing you’ll be right behind those doors to greet me once they have ceased?
Your smile became wicked.
“Perhaps I will have a greater surprise for you this evening-“
You barely finished your sentence before his hands had found themselves desperately grabbing at your rear, you smiled into his needy mouth as he pulled you into a tender kiss, laughing wildly as he squeezed the cheeks to slip his tongue right through your lips.
He would be in for a surprise alright.
-
You breathed in the air of Velaris with a melancholic peacefulness, whilst Autumn was your new home- the Court in which you presided over, nothing could ever beat the place in which you had grown.
Only two days prior, you had discovered you were pregnant- a miracle in itself. You knew of Eris’ remaining self doubts, ones that failed to be distinguished even after snuffing out Beron. How he had assured you that it wasn’t necessary to provide him heirs, that the risk of childbirth was not worth losing you.
You knew he was nothing like his father, and had often caught yourself daydreaming of what you could have- what your brother had.
It wasn’t until the Healers excitedly told you of your newfound condition that you thought it could ever be a reality.
You wanted to make it special. As special as Fae pregnancies were, and so you decided you would visit your long time favourite bakery and have them ice a celebration cake in such a way that would reveal the surprise.
One you hoped your husband would take well if not for his ridiculous overbearing attitude.
“Gods, you reek of Eris,” your cousin grimaced, nose scrunching as she pulled you into a hug. “No…Wait. What is that?” She pulled away perplexed, her pouty mouth falling open in disbelief as she suddenly recognised the sickly, sweet aroma- one also tinged with your husband’s delicate spice.
“Mor-“
“OH MY GOD! MOTHER’S TITS!” She squealed, loud enough for all of Prythian to hear. “You’re pregnant with that asshole’s child!”
You frowned.
“That asshole is still my Mate you know.”
“Cauldron boil you I suppose,” she retorted, a grin on her joyous face as you rolled your eyes with a half smile, knowing her jests were all in good humour- despite everything.
Despite the truth. Despite the truth and what you knew of Eris, the very truth your family now did too, there was still a long way to go for them to truly accept him.
“That is why I enlisted your help,” you continued, her arm now looped through yours. “I have been glamouring my scent so he wouldn’t find out until I had planned something special.”
“He has turned you soppy, Cousin,” she mocked as you giggled, knowing it was very much the other way around. “But who am I to say no to free pastries?”
After you and Mor had sufficiently stuffed yourself with cakes, you especially savouring the taste having suffered without it for far too long. It wasn’t that Autumn desserts were bad, you just missed the sweets of your childhood.
That and you were growing sick of spices and apple.
You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you but presumed it was due to the fact you were still Princess of the Night Court, your presence was greatly missed in those parts of Velaris you seldom frequented since being appointed High Lady Of Autumn.
After you thanked your favourite baker, receiving the delicate cake and had practically forced the money into her hands, making sure to visit again soon, it was almost time for you to leave the City of Starlight.
“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Your cousin whined, still hanging off of your arm like she did when you both were teens. “I’m sure your husband can manage those few hours-“
“We will visit again when I reveal the news to everyone. I swear on the Mother Mor…You better keep it a secret- especially from Rhys!”
She raised her hands in mock surrender.
“Besides,” you continued, blissfully unaware of the presence gaining on you from behind the narrow alley. “Eris-“
It was Mor who screamed first.
You felt the dagger pierce your side, but the sharp pain in your stomach that followed was worse than whatever the assailant had set out to do. A dull ache that had stolen your voice away as you fell to the floor, helpless.
You felt yourself waning as Mor’s loud voice became faint, the last thing you saw were her shaking hands, covered in blood, as she removed the Autumn Court dagger from your marred flesh.
-
Eris jolted when the bond was flooded with pain, his hands scouring burn marks into his ornate chair at the head of the meeting he had been called to at the sudden intensity of it.
He hardly had time to react before the large oak doors swung open, revealing Lucien who, to anyone else, looked normal, but the most disheveled Eris had seen him in years.
The Advisors quickly bowed and deserted the room before Eris had the chance to send them away, Lucien’s shallow breaths enough to warn them of the severity of the situation their ears were not Privy to.
“Someone was sent to kill her,” was all the Emissary said. He knew Eris would understand and was never one for pleasantries. “Rhysand has her in the Town House-“
And that was all he needed to winnow straight to where his Mate was being held.
“Brother,” Lucien called out, only steps behind the High Lord, jogging to catch up to the man barrelling through the doors adorned with Night’s symbology. “Rhysand has her room guarded, I warn you-“
“She is my Mate,” he growled, animalistic. “I shall do as I please.”
“High Lord,” Rhysand greeted sarcastically as Eris stormed his way into view, heart beating so fast he was sure he might have a heart attack if he didn’t reach you in the next few seconds.
“Rhysand if you do not step your ridiculously shoed foot aside-“
“She is safe. Our Healers do not need another High Lord breathing down their necks-“
“Safe? Someone tried to kill her. I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘safe’, High Lord.” The title was spat with venom, not respect.
“It was an Autumn Court Soldier.” Rhysand’s tone was pointed, “if she hadn’t been with Morrigan, perhaps nobody would have found her in time.”
Eris’ face paled.
“Autumn?” His jaw became taught. “Where-“
“Azriel took him to the dungeons. I assured him to leave the bastard to you, that you would most certainly provide the deserved punishment.”
Eris couldn’t thank him.
The horrible lump in his throat stopping him.
The one that had never left since his cursed birth- the one that had remained even when you had entered his life, the one that only shrunk, but never ceased to exist.
You had been hurt because of him.
Targeted.
Almost killed because he had been unaware- unable to stop it.
He knew he didn’t deserve you, but this was enough proof for him to make that very lump increase tenfold. Increase to the point where he felt he was going to suffocate.
He was drowning. He was erratic and his salvation- his only respite, was laying unresponsive in next the room over.
Whenever he got like this, which was rare as of late, you were the one to soothe him.
Kiss away his fears- quash the traumas his father had so lovingly provided him.
He felt like he was going to die.
He wanted to.
A life without you in it was not worth living.
He felt a familiar claws scraping at his mental shields and could only blame his lack of response for their intrusion, sending his brother a sharp glare in return regardless.
“Get out of my head Rhysand!”
“Let him see her, Rhys,” came Feyre’s gentle voice as she emerged from the chamber in which you were being held, and Eris might have thanked her if not for the red tainting his vision. “You would act just the same if it were me.”
Rhysand looked torn for a moment- as if he had only just remembered his little sister, now his only sister, belonged to another male.
That someone else now held her heart.
“Try keeping your emotions in check High Lord,” came his suave voice, though Feyre knew he was masking his own fears. “Wouldn’t want to exasperate her further through your…Unfortunate bond, would we?”
And with that, the High Lord of Night made his exit.
A silent acceptance that Eris was the one now entrusted to look over you.
Feyre sent Eris an apologetic smile before catching up with her own Mate, lightly berating him before they could turn the corner.
He didn’t even bother to listen.
You were more important than any domestic material he could have on Rhysand to poke fun at him for later.
You were more important than anything.
He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but he would never forget the way your face looked in that moment.
Pale.
Sickeningly pale.
Not the delicate, moonlit expanse he spent his nights caressing- worshipping, wondering how he got so lucky, but a pallid shade that almost brought him to his knees.
You were the only one who could ever bring him to.
He knew he had memorised the shade of your eyes- an ethereal violet, the only place he’d allow himself to get lost in, but was horrified as they remained shut.
Perhaps to never open again.
Because of him.
Or so he told himself.
He wished then he had spent every breath- every fleeting second of his centuries of living looking into those eyes if it meant never having to forget the way they looked.
The way you gazed upon him- with love.
Not with fear, disappointment nor disgust, but the way his mother did.
Even when you had wanted nothing to do with him, before you had accepted the bond and would refuse to meet his gaze, forced to trail behind your father and brother as a well-bred female should- or so was told.
Even when he knew he was the only one in love- would do anything for you regardless, he would rather go back to that moment, see those eyes narrowed at him in fury, than never see them again.
“The dagger was laced with Fae bane,” came the voice of Madja, he knew that because you had forced him to be attended to by her when he had suffered a particularly nasty thrashing at the hands of his father.
One you didn’t trust the Healers of his own court to remedy.
“By the Mother child, sit before you faint on me.” His face might have been have been paler than yours- blood colder and far more disheveled. “She is alive. After she wakes, Mother knows she will, I must warn you, she will still require an extensive recovery period- especially because of the baby.”
Especially because of the baby.
The baby.
The baby. The baby. The baby.
“T-The what?”
Madja breathed sharply through her nostrils.
“I see.” She sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath your limp neck. “I was under the impression you were aware. Do not fret, I have not informed anyone else-“
“She…She’s pregnant?”
It was then any semblance he was gripping onto fell through his hands like the tears threatened to from his piercing eyes.
His chest felt like it was on fire- consumed by the same flames that rested within him, his ribcage screaming out with each wavered breath as he used the wall for support.
He was having a panic attack.
He was having a panic attack and you were not there to save him.
“Leave,” he gritted out when he felt Madja inch towards him. “It will resolve itself in a minute- go.”
She was in no mood to argue with a High Lord- a temperamental one at that, and, deep down, trusted him enough to be left alone with you. He might’ve been the only one she would’ve taken that order from.
She knew that you loved him- that he loved you more. Perhaps even deeper than her own High Lord loved his own mate. She had practically raised you, it was not hard to tell. It was a palpable love.
A fiery, all consuming love.
When the woman had finally left, he let himself fall to your bedside, one hand clutching his chest, the other trembling and taking a firm hold of your much smaller, much softer one.
One that was ice cold.
He gasped through his tears, so foreign against his skin- his skin that had become so hot, his Magic uncontrollable, that they evaporated as soon as they fell upon his freckled cheeks.
The words came tumbling out before he could even rationalise- process what they meant. Apologising- for everything.
Apologising for being your Mate, for cursing you to be bound to such a fool as he, one that had broken his promise to protect you- to keep you safe.
He sobbed unabashedly- unashamedly into your hands, the frail digits slowly becoming warmed by his powers as he continued praying the hardest he’d ever prayed- the only time of three that he had ever put his wavering faith into the Mother, to keep you and his unborn child steady.
Steady and awake.
He wasn’t sure if Madja had been vague to comfort him or simply because she too was unaware when you would come to.
Or if you would ever.
He hadn’t even become a father and he had already failed his one duty.
If he felt worthless before, it was nothing to what he felt now- kneeling on the cold stone, his head against your womb with his fractured cries ricocheting off of the bloodied material.
He would burn it.
Buy you 1000 dresses to make up for the one he destroyed- never wanting to smell the scent of your blood, the one which made him gag and tears gather ever more strongly at the corner of his russet eyes.
He would burn it alongside the very man had done this to you.
Burn him slowly.
He would burn everything for you, the entirety of Prythian- himself to ensure your safety.
And now his child’s.
“E-Eri?”
And that’s when he really did properly cry.
You couldn’t understand what he was saying, his hoarse voice muffled by the fresh linen Madja had given you after attending to your wound.
Then you realised he wasn’t saying anything at all.
He was crying.
He was crying and trying to hide it.
“I-I’m sorry-“ your voice was weak, and it was your turn to cry. “I-I should’ve listened to you, I-I should never have come, I put our baby in danger-“
You spoke without thinking, but it was then you gasped.
Your baby.
“The baby is okay-“ Eris let out, his own voice breaking, finally lifting his head and allowing his watery gaze meeting your own as if saying it out loud finally made him accept it.
Realise what truly lay ahead.
“T-The baby- our baby,” he choked out, and you let him bring you into his arms, as you hiccuped against his shoulder as he held you. “My star, I can never apologise enough if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me-“
“No,” you sniffled, wincing as you shifted, “I-I came here to surprise you, I-I had someone bake a cake- I-“ you burst into tears again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…I just wanted to make you happy!”
You were still thinking about him.
He was supposed to be the one comforting you and yet all you could do was apologise- apologise for wanting him to be happy.
“My Love, you make me happy. With every breath I take knowing you are my Mate fills me with more joy than anything tangible- anything else the Mother could ever gift me,” his words were sincere as he delicately held you, mindful of your wound. “There is nothing in all of Prythian that matters to me apart from you.”
He felt himself becoming tense as his fingers brushed against your cut- the one he refused to look at because it turned him feral.
“Are…Are you happy then?” Your voice was so small it almost broke him. The fact you even had to ask. “I know how you feel-“
“My Light, that news alone leaves me the happiest I have ever been,” he was struggling to maintain his composure with his Mate so weak- trembling in his strong arms. “A child is a blessing, one I am honoured you would ever give me…” His amber gaze became crescent shaped as he smiled, still in disbelief. “I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible.”
You didn’t know why you were crying anymore.
The pain, the fear, the love you felt oozing from the bond or your husband’s words.
The confessions that spilled from him so readily- easily after years of coaxing him from his shell, that hard exterior even you had to work through.
“Our baby,” you echoed, the only words you could find as you revelled in your Mate’s tears.
A rare sight if any.
“Our baby,” he affirmed shakily, his free hand remaining protectively splayed on your flat stomach, swearing there and then he’d keep you safe- the both of you safe, no matter the cost.
The same cost that later that evening, when you had spent enough time wrapped up in Eris, Madja shooing him away exasperatedly, the man who had dared do this to you paid for.
The cost he paid for when Eris knew you were amply surrounded by people- family who loved you, people at your beck and call by your bedside, giving him enough time to deal with the very scum that had once been part of his- your Court.
The very cost that was hours of torture- brutal torture lovingly provided by the very blade that had harmed you- a hundred fold.
The man couldn’t even scream his last words, his tongue cut from his mouth as he was burned alive.
Eris, with a snarl on his powerful face at the memory of you so helpless.
And with the blood of his enemy covering his shaking hands, all he could think of was you.
You and his child.
#fanfic#acotar#acotar fic#acotar x oc#acotar x reader#eris acotar#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra#eris vanserra x oc#eris vanserra x reader#eris x oc#eris x reader#dad!eris
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The Nanny
Pairing: rafe x nanny reader
Summary: Being Wheezie’s nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?
Warnings: 18+, masturbation, and voyeurism
Wc:3.0K
Chapter 1: Did you enjoy the show?
The sun was beating down on you as you laid out on the beach chair. Wheezie has been begging you all week to go to the beach with her and as per usual she disappeared. A breeze passed by you causing goosebumps to raise across your body. The sound of waves crashing filled your ears as you flipped the page of the book you were reading. “You know I didn’t think my dad pays you to lounge at the beach.” The voice of the one person you do not want to see right now creeps up from behind. You lift the sunglasses as you peak behind you to be greeted with Rafe Cameron. The oldest out of all of the Cameron children and one of the main reasons that even at Wheezie’s age she has a nanny. Your head turns to look at him over the chair you laid on. He’s wearing black swim trunks, your eyes look up at his body and see the chain dangling on his collar before meeting his eyes. Thank god for sunglasses, he would never let you forget checking him out.
“Actually he does. Whatever Wheezie wants she gets, today was the beach.” Your head turns to face the water again, glasses shading your eyes from the sun. The sound of sand shuffling can be heard as Rafe gets closer. His shadow casts a dark film over your body as he looks down at you. “Nice swimsuit, sunny. Really makes your tits pop.” A few snickers come from behind him and with a quick glance behind him you can see Topper and Kelce. “You should wear this around the house more often.” Rafe’s hand goes to caress the strap holding your top up. “Stop it.” You say and swat his hand away from you squirming in the chair to get away from him.
Through the corner of your eye you can see Wheezie coming back with some of her friends. Standing up you gather all your things, slipping your shorts back on to show off your ass. You might hate the flirting at times but it sure is fun to mess with him. “Come on baby, don't be like that. Why don’t you come hang out with us? I promise you’ll have a good time.” The sound of his voice has this underline of suggestion to it. Narrowing your eyes you stare at him for a second. Rafe has this little grin on his face that royally pisses you off. Who does he think he is? “The next time I want to be left unsatisfied and disappointed I’ll make sure to call you.” The edge in your voice only made his stupid grin grow even more. “Trust me baby.” He steps a little bit closer to you. “I would have you begging me for more when I’m done with you.” He whispered eyes staring at yours behind the sunglasses.
A scoff leaves your lips as you take a step back. “You’re right. Maybe I” You pause for a second to look at his blue eyes. He’s standing a bit straighter now, you actively have to look up at him. “Maybe after your minute is over I’ll definitely want more. I know how much you love having girls beg you to make them cum.” Which was true. Having to live in the same house as him let alone the same floor has proven that point. “It’s just sad you can’t make them cum the first time.” You shrug your shoulders as his face drops. Topper and Kelce’s laughs ring in your ear, infuriating Rafe as he shoots them a death glare over his shoulder. “Oka-”
“Hey!” Wheezie yells as she gets closer to us. “What are you doing here?” she asks the older Cameron. “Just enjoying the view.” Rafe replies with a shrug. His eyes raking up and down your body landing on your tits once again. “Gross.” You chuckle a little at her reaction. It's good to see that someone else is tired of his constant flirting.
Ever since you got the job a year ago, Rafe was always flirting with you. The small touches and whispers in your ear have been endless. Ward has scolded him so many times that you're surprised even talks to you. It’s not that Rafe isn’t attractive, he is but it's his personality. If that beautiful face hadn’t been so cocky, entitled, or rude you may have already slept with him. Actually you would probably still sleep with him but after hearing girl after girl. As well as dealing with the fall out of each heartbreak, you were all set. You didn’t want to be another notch on his belt and that’s all he sees you as.
“Come on Wheeze. Why don’t we go get some ice cream? I think I saw that cute boy working today.” You send her a wink as your arm wraps around her shoulder. The both of you couldn’t even get a few steps in before Rafe calls out to you. “You aren’t taking my little sister somewhere so you can felt with some fucking guy.” His eyes burn into the back of your head. Stopping and turning your head to look back at him you grin. “The boy isn’t for me, it's for Wheeze. I don’t think my boyfriend would like me flirting with someone else.” The ease in your voice made Rafe clench his jaw. The jealous green monster he hates so much tapping at his shoulder seeing you walk away.
The two of you continue walking, not looking back as he yells out to you. “What boyfriend? Sunny, I'm talking to you, what boyfriend?” Topper and Kelce can be heard trying to get his attention as he keeps calling after you. You keep walking as Wheezie turns to look back at him. The two boys now in front of him holding him back as he tries to follow the both of you. She looks at you for a second and then back to him. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” Her brown eyes shine behind her glasses staring at me. “Since a second ago.” Looking over at her you both laugh, continuing to the ice cream shop that’s down the road.
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The sunset was painting the sky with hues of orange, reds, and purple. It looked breathtaking as you sat in the kitchen scrolling on your phone. A video of a puppy playing hide and seek with a baby made you laugh. The sound of footsteps filled the room, Rafe’s voice following along. “What are you laughing about?” “oh sorry I was just texting someone.” You giggle, he steps further into the kitchen making his way to you. “Let me guess that little boyfriend of yours.” Bitterness and a hint of jealousy are laced in his sentence. You place your phone down as you twist your body to face him.
He looks good. The white t-shirt clings to his arms as he leans down onto the island next to you. “What could he have possibly said that was so funny.” There’s that jealousy again. You lean in a little closer to him, eyes flicking to his lips just in time to catch him liking them. You look back to his eyes, noticing him doing the same. “He was telling me about this douchebag that he met at this party. I think you might know him, he’s this little trust fund baby who thinks he rules the world.” A huf escapes his lips and he leans in a little closer. Lips so close to each other that when he moves his lips they lightly brush yours. “He sounds like an asshole.” He straightens up and walks to the fridge.
Opening it up he takes out a water bottle without looking back at you. His arms flexing distracts you for a moment and you’re glad that he can’t see you. Rafe closes the door and your eyes dart to the rest of the room not looking at anything particular. “It’s sad you are dating him. Maybe that trust fund baby can teach you a good time.” He winks at you when he walks by taking a swig from the bottle. “Very funny I don’t think he would be able to handle me. Plus why would I leave someone who can actually get the job done.” You shrug, picking the phone back up to look busy. You can see Rafe stop in his tracks from the corner of your eye. “Baby I would rock your world to the point that you would forget your own name. That little boy would look like a rookie once I’m done with you.” With that he just walked away leaving you blushing.
There’s a slight ache between your thighs and you clench trying to relieve it. Before you can make the mistake of following him Rose walked in. “Hi sweetie. Would you be able to do me a favor? Ward and I are going to the Bahamas for a week to finish up some business deal. Who knows what Sarah will be up to while we are gone and god knows what Rafe will be up to. I swear those two will send Ward to an early grave. Anyway, Wheezie is going to a week-long sleepaway camp with some friends. I know it’s not really your job but can you keep an eye on the other two. We really need to get this deal done and I don’t need them ruining something just to have Ward leave.” She barely looks at you or anything for that matter as she parades around the kitchen, staring at her phone the whole time. Her eyes look up at you waiting for the response. “Of course I can. I’m here to help out in any way.” She smiles at you and grabs a wine glass. “Thank you, You’ve honestly been a big help around the house. I haven’t seen Wheezie this happy or Rafe this well behaved. It's like we needed you.” She chuckles and pours the red wine into her glass.
Her statement took you by surprise. You knew that Wheezie was doing a lot better knowing that she has a stable environment. But the statement about Rafe didn’t make sense. Sure he flirts with you all the time and on rare occasions make sure you are okay at a party. But that’s just because he wants to sleep with you and he knows that if anything happened to you Ward would be upset. You’ve seen Ward yell at him countless of times and know how much Rafe wants his fathers approval. It honestly breaks your heart seeing how hard he really tries. “That’s only because he has to be nice to me. But I’m glad I’m a positive influence.” She takes a sip from her glass tilting her head as she looks at you. There’s something behind her eyes that you can’t make out.“You may not see it but he cares about you. He’s different around you.” She goes back onto her phone as she leaves. “But what do I know? You never know what that kid is thinking. Oh do you mind bringing Wheezie her suitcase? It's in the closet in the hallway.” “Yeah.” You call out stuck in place.
After a moment you snapped out of it and made your way to get the suitcase. Grabbing it you drop it off in her room. “Here you go kiddo.” You barge into her room. “One suitcase for your travels.” She is standing by her dresser going through it and tossing clothes everywhere. “Do you think this is good to bring?” She’s holding up a dress the two of you got a few weeks back when you were at the mall. “Depends, do you plan on spending the week doing camp activities in that dress?” You reply sitting on the edge of her bed looking at her. She walks over, putting the suitcase next to you as she starts to pack. “It’s not for camp. A cute boy in my grade is going and it’s for when he asks me out.” You laugh, swiping the dress from her hands before she can pack it. “Very funny young lady. When you are at camp you will be doing camp activities, not boys.” You fold the dress putting it back into her drawer before closing it.
“Uhh.” She cries out, flopping onto the bed. “You’re no fun. It’s fine he wouldn’t have asked me out anyway.” Glancing at her you can see her in deep thought. “He would be stupid if he didn’t. You are so beautiful and amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You crouch next to her on the floor and she turns her head to the side to see you. “Thank you.” Your right arm reaches up and pushes her hair out of her face. “Just telling the truth… Now finish packing, we don't need a repeat of Cabo.” You both giggle and you leave her alone.
Making your way down the stairs to your room the sound of a door catches your attention. It closes softly, barely loud enough to hear it. You stop midway on the staircase just in time to see Rafe make his way from your room across the hall to his.
What was he doing in your room? Rushing down the rest of the stairs you burst into your room. Nothing looks out of place, everything is exactly where you have left it. The bed was still made, your desk perfectly intact, your nightstand has the book you left there last night. If everything was still there what was he doing? Looking around once again you can’t find anything. Your legs start to move before you can think about where you are going. Even though deep down you know exactly where.
Not even thinking you open Rafes door but stop as soon as you see him. He’s laying on his bed, the shirt he was wearing earlier pulled up to his chest. Your eyes scan down his body and your eyes widen seeing what he is doing. Rafe's right hand is wrapped around his dick stroking it in fast strokes. “Fuck baby. Just like that, feel fucking amazing.” But what really catches your eyes is the red lace fabric he has pressed up to his nose. He takes a big sniff before bringing the panties down to his dick. You thought Rose's statement shocked you but you are truly frozen now. It’s like every muscle in your body gave up and every neuron in your brain died. No matter how much you wanted to say something or move you couldn’t. The grip you had on the door tightened as you heard him moan.
“Oh god.” His strokes get faster making the veins in his arms pop out more. Another moan leaves his lips. The noise draws your gaze up to his face, which was a mistake because you could ignore the throbbing happening in your shorts. But Rafe’s eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back making his neck look biteable. Yeah looking at the pleasure expression he had right now was a mistake. The little voice in your head telling you to run starts telling you to join him. “Fuck Sunny don’t stop.” Your jaw drops hearing your nickname. The one he gave you a few weeks into working here.
“Knew you were a slut. Begging me to teach you a lesson.” A sloppy smacking noise reaching your ears. He was thinking about you? You knew he wanted to fuck you but you never thought he would steal you panties just to get off on the thought of you. “Bet your dripping right now. Soaking those little shorts of yours.” This made your eyes shoot up to look at him. Crystal blue eyes meeting yours as his pupils dilate enveloping the sea of blue. He moans as he cums moaning out your name without breaking eye contact. White ropes shooting up and coating his toned stomach. You can feel the blood rush to your face at the thought of being caught watching Rafe masturbate. Well more of the fact that you like watching Rafe himself off.
“If I knew you were into voyeurism I would have left my door open a long time ago.” He chuckles, running his hand over his buzz cut. “I-I’m sorry. I saw you come out of my room and I.” The words die on your tongue watching as he gets up from the bed, wiping off his cum with my panties. His moans keep playing in your head as you just stare. He makes his way over to you, striping from his shirt leaving him completely bare in front of you. “It’s okay I liked that you watched me. Maybe next time I won’t have to use your panties.” He taunts waving the red lace in your face.
With your brain not functioning no comebacks came to mind and you didn’t feel his hand wrapping around your waist. “So tell me if I reach into those pretty panties will you be as soaked as I think you’ll be.” The soft fabric brush against your lips finally snapping you out of whatever daze was put over you. You push him off of you and snatch the panties out of his hand. “You fucking wish asshole.” You exclaim practically running out of the room to yours and locking the door.
Your chest rises and falls in fast motions trying to have you catch your breath. What just happened? The events keep playing in your mind as you throw the solid garment into the hamper and go to wash your hands in the ensuite bathroom. Scrubbing furiously you get the remnants of his cum off of your hands. You lean against it with your head hanging between your shoulders. It wasn’t until you licked your lips and tasted salt you remembered the moment. He had wiped the painties on your lips before you had stormed off. You still had his cum left on your lips.
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Her innocence is gone
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Plot: Azriel takes your virginity.
Warning: don’t read if you’re under the age of 18, smut, Degration, loss of virginity, blowjob
The day Azriel finally found you was the happiest day of his life. He had waited five hundred years for you and the moment you met, he did not want to leave your side. You were everything he ever wanted in a mate but there was one problem. You have yet to have sex.
He knew sex wasn’t everything, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to have sex at least once to really solidify your union. He was about to ask you if something was wrong with him when you confessed: “I’ve never had sex with anyone before.”
Azriel felt his cock hardening at your confession. You were a virgin. You have yet to be touched by another male. He would be the first and only male you’re going to be with. That part terrified him since you’ve never been with anyone; he had to ensure that your first time was memorable.
After several deep discussions, you and Azriel decided you would have sex for the first time on your one-year anniversary. He wanted it to be special for you and couldn’t think of a better opportunity than on your anniversary.
When that day finally arrived, Azriel planned the entire day, and you enjoyed every minute of it. By the end of the night, Azriel had you pinned on his bed with his hands disappearing under your dress, “Azriel wait.” You removed Azriel’s hand when you felt them slipping into your underwear.
“Is everything alright? Do you want to stop?” Azriel asked, concerned. Part of him was disappointed you stopped him, but he also didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable doing yet.
“Gods no,” you sat up and cupped his face, “I just wanted to show off what I’ve been hiding under here.”
Before Azriel had the chance to ask any questions, you got up and started undoing your dress. Azriel felt as if time had stopped when your dress fell and revealed that you were wearing a white lace bra with matching panties.
You looked so pure and innocent, and Azriel couldn’t wait to taint you, “Cauldron boil me. You look ravishing. Come here, my love,” Azriel beckoned, his cock growing hard at you swaying your hips as you walked towards him.
Azriel’s hands were immediately on your covered breasts and started massaging them. “Happy anniversary, my love,” you whispered as you settled on his lap. Azriel leaned in and kissed one of your breasts while the other one was continuing to be massaged by Azriel’s hand.
You whimpered at Azriel’s action and leaned into his touch. You enjoyed the feeling of his shadows swirling around your body. “They think you are gorgeous as well,” Azriel smirked as his shadows explored your body.
“I think they’re gorgeous,” you breathed out while his shadows started to caress your face.
“Is this ok?” Azriel asked as he reached around and was ready to undo your bra. You eagerly nodded your head and gasped when, in one swift motion, Azriel undid your bra and tossed it to the ground. “They’re fucking perfect,” Azriel groaned before burying his face between your breast and started decorating your breasts with love bites.
You let out a soft whimper at Azriel’s action and started rolling your hips against him, causing him to bite a little too hard and earn a cry from you. “I’m sorry, my love,” Azriel apologized and soon licked the spot where he bit you a little too hard, “Better?”
“Yes,” you replied.
Not wanting to waste any time, Azriel laid you on the bed and started leaving a trail of kisses down your body until he landed on your covered pussy. “I've fantasized about how you taste since the moment we first met,” Azriel moaned before licking your covered core.
“Azriel!” you breathed out at Azriel’s action.
“Say my name like that again. I love it when you say it like that,” Azriel removed your panties and let out a growl as he took in your naked form, “Fucking beautiful, you’re fucking beautiful, my love.”
“Az- oh Azriel !” you shut your eyes when you felt Azriel’s tongue against your clit before disappearing deep inside you.
Azriel smiled as he looked up at you. You were already a whimpering mess, and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet. “Let me know if you need me to stop,” as much as it would pain him, Azriel would stop if what he was doing was too much for you.
To Azriel’s surprise, you began to beg for him to keep going, “Please don’t stop. This feels really good.”
Azriel replaced his tongue with his fingers and skillfully moved them inside you while his mouth was on your clit. With every minute that passed, you became more vocal about the pleasure Azriel was bringing you.
Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you, “Azriel!” you began grinding yourself against Azriel’s fingers. Azriel continued to move his fingers deep inside you until you physically removed them, “No more. I want to please you now.”
Azriel was about to protest. He wanted to be the one who would be doing all the pleasing, but as soon as he watched the desperation in your eyes, he pulled away and started to get undressed.
A smirk appeared on Azriel's face when he noticed your eyes widened at the size of his cock. “You still have time to back out. I won’t blame you if you did,” Azriel reminded you as he started stoking himself.
“I want to,” you all but shouted and earned a dry laugh from Azriel, “I just don’t know if I’m going to be good at it.”
“Don’t worry, my love,” Azriel held his hand out for you to help you off of his bed, “I will tell you what to do. First, get on your knees for me.”
You felt yourself getting turned on by Azriel’s instructions and did it without a second thought. Your heart started racing, being a few inches away from his erect cock. “Grab it,” Azriel ordered.
Carefully you reached over and took his cock in your hands. Since he was very well endowed, you had to wrap both hands around it and start pumping it. “That’s it. Keep doing that-” Azriel shut his eyes as you began to move your hands, “Once you’re ready, stick the tip in your mouth and- Fuck,” Azriel looked down and noticed you took a third of his cock in your mouth and started sucking on him.
“Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Azriel asked, his hands were resting on your head.
All you could do was moan as you tried to take more of him in your mouth, but you felt yourself gagging, “Relax your throat-oh fuck.” Azriel's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and involuntary thrust, causing you to gag.
Azriel was about to pull away to see if you were ok when you held him in place and shook your head no, “Are you sure?”
“Mhm,” you moaned around him and started bobbing your head faster, finally feeling confident in your actions.
“Good girl. Fuck, I’m almost there,” Azriel fisted your hair tighter as he fucked your throat rougher and got off on the sound of you gagging around his cock.
His shadows, in the meantime, were swirling around your breast and pussy. They wanted to please you just as bad as their master, and they were succeeding. You were wet from both their and Azriel’s actions. “Mmm,” you moaned out when you felt Azriel’s shadows against your clit.
“Come here,” Azriel picked you up and smashed his lips against you. Moaning when he tasted himself, “I love you.”
Azriel moved so that his back was against his headboard and called for you when he was situated. “Go slow so you don’t hurt yourself,” Azriel warned as you made your way over to him, slowly sinking onto his cock.
“Fuck!” you cried out as Azriel’s cock stretched you out. Azriel was tempted to stop you when he noticed the pained expression on your face. Almost as if you could read his mind, you spoke, “No, it’s ok. I’m almost there.”
Knowing there were only a few more inches to go, you decided to sink entirely onto him and let out a cry. “It’s ok. You’re ok. Don’t move until you’re ready.” Azriel tried to calm you down as he wiped away the tears that had cascaded down your cheeks.
You did as you were told and stayed still until the pain subsided. Once you felt comfortable enough, you started to move. While it still hurt a bit, you pushed past it, and soon that pain turned to pleasure.“You’re doing a good job. Gods, you feel so good,” Azriel reassured you while peppering your breasts with kisses.
Just like when you were giving Azriel a blow job, you grew more confident in what you were doing with every minute past. Soon, Azriel had you gripping the headboard as he thrusts into you relentlessly from behind.
“Look at you. My once innocent mate has turned into a filthy whore,” Azriel bit your shoulder blade as he reached around and started squeezing your breast.
All you could do was cry out of pleasure, enjoying all of the derogatory names Azriel was calling you. You knew he didn’t mean them, but for some reason, you felt confident being called a whore or a slut. “Harder, please fuck me harder,” you begged Azriel.
“You’re my dirty little whore,” Azriel repeated, “Mine and no one else’s.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at Azriel’s words, “Only yours. I’m your dirty little whore.”
Needing to see your face again, Azriel pulled out and rolled you over before placing your legs over his shoulder and thrusting back inside.
“I love you,” Azriel chanted as he watched your facial expression, enjoying the fact that he was the one bringing you so much pleasure. “Touch my wings,” Azriel requested and caused you to look at him in shock.
You knew how protective Illyrians were about their wing, so you asked, “Are you sure?”
After letting out a muffled yes, you reached over and grazed over the sensitive part of his wings. “Oh gods, FUCK,” Azriel found himself cumming inside you and caused you to orgasm as well.
Heavy breathing filled the room as Azriel continued to move inside you until his cock finally softened. “That was amazing.” You had a smile plastered on your face, but that quickly turned into a frown when Azriel pulled out and collapsed beside you, “Why did you pull out? I loved having you inside me.”
“I’m sorry, my love,” Azriel moved you so you were lying on top of him and buried his cock back inside you, “Better?”
“Much better,” you smiled down at him, “I love you, Azriel.”
“I love you too, my love,” Azriel replied while running his fingers up and down your spine, “Happy anniversary.”
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I love your Daryl x reader stories
I wanted to ask if you could write sth about Daryl x fempolish reader. Like maybe they meet in Alexandria and she made him some polish food he loved or just some love short story. I don't know it's up to you.
Have a great day
Just Try It | Daryl Dixon x Polish!Fem!Reader
*GIF and moodboard aren't mine.*
Summary: After finding all the ingredients needed to make one of your cultural dishes, you decide to make it when Carol invited you and Daryl over. However, you never suspected a man that ate snakes on the regular would be so skeptical when it came to food.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: The Commonwealth.
Warnings: Swearing.
Word count: 932.
A/n: Thank you so much for helping me with the translations @mawidixon! I hope you like this! (Translations will be at the bottom.)
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“Nah, it looks weird as shit. Ain't gon' eat it.”
You rolled your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “Kochanie, I've seen you eat a snake before. We've had to eat literal dog meat before. How the hell are you picky about this? It's just Pierogi. I've eaten this many times before the world ended. It won't kill you.”
Daryl peered over your shoulder, looking at the Pierogi that you were busy frying in a pan. His eyes were carefully following your movements, skeptical about the dish you were preparing. Carol had invited you and the kids over for dinner and had asked you to prepare Pierogi, and you had agreed rather ecstatically. It was rare for you to be able to make one of your traditional dishes, so you had jumped at the opportunity to do so.
“Why would ya boil it and then fry it? Seems fuckin' unnecessary if ya ask me,” Daryl replied skeptically, slightly scrunching his nose. “And the mashed potatoes? Why would ya wrap dough 'round it? Ya could jus' eat it as is. No need to go makin' dough outta flour and ruinin' mashed potatoes by wrappin' it 'round it. S'a waste of cheese, too, addin' it in.”
You clicked your tongue and carefully took the pan from the hot fire, and placed it onto a rag on the counter as to not burn the pristine laminate countertop. You turned to Daryl, your eyebrows raised questioningly. “Be honest with me right now, Dixon. Have you ever actually had Pierogi before?”
Daryl immediately shook his head. “Nah,” he told you, crossing his arms over his chest.
You hummed and nodded, turning to the bowl that had the Pierogi that you had made earlier. You grabbed the lukewarm Pierogi and extended it towards your partner, laughing at the face he made at it.
“Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy,” you mused, laughing harder at the confused face he made. “Before you ask what I said, it's not important. What is important, however, is you trying this. It's delicious and I can't have you thinking that eating squirrel meat is better than this.”
Daryl reluctantly took the dumpling, holding it gingerly between his fingers. “'Least m'familiar with squirrel meat. Know it ain't gon' taste any different each time.”
“Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek,” you muttered under your breath, before shaking your head and sending Daryl an amused smile. “Daryl, stop being so stubborn. Po prostu spróbuj.”
Daryl grumbled something under his breath before looking at you again. “Nie chcę.”
“As impressed as I am that you understood me and that you managed to reply, saying something in my language won't sway me.”
Daryl shot you a small smirk. “Worth a shot,” he replied, before hesitantly taking a bite of the Pierogi.
You watched in amusement as a whirlwind of emotions played on his face. First skepticism, then surprise, and then he looked impressed. He practically devoured the rest of the dumpling in hungry bites, reaching for another one in the bowl, but you stopped him.
“Nope. I can't allow you to do that, misiu. The rest is for tonight,” you told him with a smile. “I can't disappoint Carol now, can I? She was eager about this the whole day. You only just came around about this. I'd rather give these to someone who's had faith in me from the start.”
“C'mon, tha' ain't fair,” Daryl groaned. “Merle once said tha' these things tasted like crap. Went into vivid detail 'bout how it tasted, too. Can't blame me fer not trustin' it.”
You giggled and shook your head. “You should've had more trust in me. I've been making these things since I was a kid. I'd never intentionally make you eat something bad,” you told him, before placing the lid onto the bowl and handing it to the archer. “Here, why don't you go ahead and take this to Carol? She's expecting us.”
Daryl took the bowl from you. “What about ya, robaczku? RJ and Judith are waitin' fer their auntie.”
You smiled at the nickname he had picked up from you, and motioned towards the dumplings still in the hot pan. “I'm just gonna wrap these up and put them away. I'll be right behind you.”
Daryl nodded and leaned forward to place a quick kiss to your lips. He soon pulled away and started walking away, calling to you over his shoulder. “Jus' so ya know, those are mine. Judith and RJ dun' need to know 'bout those.”
You laughed and called out to him. “So, are Pierogi's better than squirrel meat?”
Daryl paused at the doorway and contemplated on how to respond. He smirked to himself as he looked down at the bowl in his hand. “I'll let the kids decide tha', sunshine. I love ya.”
“I want an answer from you!”
The door shutting was the only response you got in return. You looked down at the pan and shook your head. There was never a dull moment with your beloved huntsman.
“Ja też cię kocham, you asshole,” you mused with a laugh.
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Translations:
Kochanie: Honey.
Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy: Your facial expression is adorable.
Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek: You can't always only eat squirrels.
Po prostu spróbuj: Just try it.
Nie chcę: I don't want to.
misiu: teddy bear.
robaczku: love bug.
Ja też cię kocham: I love you too.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#twd daryl#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl drabbles#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl x y/n#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead#norman reedus#norman reedus x reader
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Best of the Reptiles in Media - 01 - Godzilla (Monsterverse)
I figure that while I'm using this blog, I might as well post my ramblings on a subject dear to my heart: That being the representation of reptiles as characters in media. And not just villainous or vile ones like we're so used to. I'm talking about ones that inspire me. The ones that are legitimately compelling to me. And these posts are an excuse to espouse why.
Plus, it's just fun. You can thank the likes of @tyrantisterror and @bogleech for inspiring me to do these.
So who better to start with than with the lizard who's been an inspiration to me for almost my entire life. That being the one known as Gojira. AKA...Godzilla.
This is the one character in these posts who probably needs no introduction. Ever since his debut in 1954, the walking embodiment of the horrors of nuclear war, among other things, has been nothing less than an icon. This is the beast people think about when they hear "giant monster" or "kaiju". This is truly the King of the Monsters.
My introduction to Godzilla was a children's book called "Godzilla on Monster Island". It was a fun read full of neat monsters living together and teaming up to stop an evil plan. And it left me wanting more. I wanted more stories of these fantastic yet friendly beasts being friends and living together while having fun adventures. Little me was a bit disappointed to find that Godzilla spent more time fighting his fellow kaiju and trashing cities instead.
The truth, as I would find out, was that Godzilla is never just one thing. He is a fun defender of the Earth. He's the terrifying consequences of our tampering with both nature and science. And in recent memory, he's been a lot of other things. But most of the time, he's either hero or mankind's hubris on two legs. To me, he was a giant dinosaur that could fire thermonuclear breath, and that was all that mattered. It was after hearing about the historical significance of him that my respect doubled.
Back then, I would tell you that my favorite Godzilla from a design standpoint was the 2002 version. Personality wise, almost every Showa appearance post-1964.
But in 2014, everything changed. In came a Goji that seemed to have everything I could ask for. So, we're going to look at the one that resonates with me the most. The Monsterverse version.
That right there is perhaps one of the most awe-inspiring entrances I've ever seen in a cinema.
Before the release of Godzilla (2014), the franchise had entered something of a slump period. The last film was all the way back in 2004, and sadly, the kaiju genre was still something of a niche thing growing up. Here in America, you either liked superheroes or real-life celebrities as a kid. If you liked monsters, let alone giant monsters, you were one of the weird kids. That, or one of the kids who never lost their passion for dinosaurs. But those were rare.
Then Gareth Edwards unleashed this film, and while one could argue that Pacific Rim (2013) got the ball rolling, THIS ultimately resurrected the entire franchise of the Big G, and got him a degree of general respect from most film-goers (so long as you ignore the irritating internet drama regarding screen-time back then).
But let's get to the meat of this post. Why is this Godzilla so much better to me than the rest? A few things, really.
First off, there's Godzilla's role in the Monsterverse's narrative. For the most part, he is a guardian of the natural order, a means of bringing balance to imbalance. He is a metaphor for how nature is capable of righting itself, and how we either have to deal with it, or live with the consequences. In practice, Godzilla ends up going up against almost every monster, most of which are only a threat because we awakened them/created them. Yet despite this, he doesn't go out of his way to destroy us. He's not mindlessly destructive or particularly vengeful either. He knows we're a part of the world too. We just tend to grate a bit more on his nerves because of how much we screw up. If there's one thing this series isn't afraid to show, it's that...well, "the arrogance of man is thinking nature is within our control, and not the other way around."
Design-wise, this is one of the best Godzilla's around. He's bulky, has a killer stare, and there's something oddly endearing about how...well, meaty he is. He's like if my aforementioned previous favorite design, the 2002 one, put on both a lot of muscle and weight. It also ties into his fighting style, said to have been inspired particularly by bears. Even the sounds associated with him are amazing. From that hype-inducing charge of his thermonuclear breath to what might be the best rendition of the classic roar.
Then there is the body language. This Godzilla's usual gait is slow, almost plodding at times. He shows clear signs of exhaustion in some scenes. What he goes through is hard, and his job is even harder, but he still does it. It really helps sell his personality most of the time.
Part of why I like the Monsterverse so much is that, for the most part, the kaiju are treated as characters in their own right (that's not to say they weren't in previous iterations, far from it, but it's a bit more pronounced here than most of the post-Showa stuff). Sure, some films in this verse are better about it than others (more on that later...), but I like how you can glean what Godzilla is thinking of just by looking at his eyes. Of particular note is how they widen in "Godzilla: King of the Monsters" when Ghidorah gains the upper hand during the final battle, his absolute sneer of anger in the first movie when the male MUTO approaches him, or...this.
This scene. This one right here encapsulates so much of what I love about this iteration. Where Godzilla, dazed and thoroughly battered by both the fight with the MUTOS and having a building fall right on him, locks eyes with a tiny little soldier. You see a sense of tiredness, of pain, of acknowledgement, and maybe even a little wonder. This is not just some mindless beast fighting for its turf. It's a thinking being. And he's hurt. The most powerful creature on the planet isn't invincible, neither on the outside and definitely not on the inside.
And you know what? I've been there. There are times where I feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world, that there are things too heavy to bear, and its suffocating. Godzilla constantly shows throughout the Monsterverse that his job as a living balancing act is wearing on him. He gets put through so. Much. Crap. From getting buildings dropped on him to being personally dropped from a distance above the clouds to watching his symbiotic partner/mate die, it's almost unfair how we're expected to not really sympathize with him as much as...I'll get to that later.
But he never gives up. Despite all the pain and fatigue, he gets back up, and he fights. And he fights. And he continues until the deed is done. Someone has to rise to the occasion, and it might as well be him. If not him, then who?
That is the biggest reason I resonate with this Godzilla. His awe-inspiring design is one thing, but he gave me the strength to persevere. I don't give up, because he never did. Never before had the Big G been such a hero to me. Such that in 2014 I found myself silently sobbing to myself when it seemed like he was dead near the end even though that was clearly not the case. It's hardly a surprise that I based my personal Godzilla AU on him, albeit with the more sympathetic traits dialed up. Stuff like this made G14 and KOTM some of my favorite kaiju flicks...
...which made it more than a little disappointing when Wingard took the helm and basically said "screw that, this is about the monke now!" Yeah, GvK is the weakest entry in the series for me for a reason. Godzilla's more redeeming qualities are buried under a narrative that clearly is not interested in giving him the time of day or even the benefit of a doubt. Both it and it's successor, GxK, are Kong movies through and through, and that means poor Big G is put out of focus.
I cannot tell you how much I HATE this idea that the only way a monster can be relatable is if it either looks almost just like us or is really cute. Yes, I understand the universal appeal, but they had such a good thing going for Godzilla! And they throw almost all of it away just so that they can make Kong look better by comparison.
Credit where it's due, these issues are slightly improved in GxK. It's not only firmly established that Godzilla is an overall benefit to the world for keeping the other Titans in check, but we get some interesting bits with him like how he instantly responds and prepares to answer the call of the Iwi and help them. It shows that despite his tenuous relationship with humans, there are ones he clearly gives a lot of thought to. And there's also how he makes the Roman Coliseum his own personal bed. Not only is it kind of hilariously adorable, but if you remember how in KOTM he had his own man-made temple, you get the impression that he has a bit of homesickness. That's the kind of thing I like to see! More of that and less "he's only ever angry and he only ever fights, character is for primates only".
Also, while the Evolved design has nice details, I WANT THAT GUT BACK! it just looks weird otherwise with that disproportionately skinny waist.
But thankfully, our prayers might be answered:
With GxK's roaring success (ha!), it's more than likely that the next Monsterverse entry will finally give Godzilla an overdue character arc that doesn't begin and end with "destroy everyone and act big and scary and nothing else". Just please make sure that he doesn't have to die to get that. There are plenty of ways you can make us invest in the guy's story without having to kill him. I WANT to see more of that emotional vulnerability teased across the movies. I want to see him come to terms with how he's been going about his job. And more importantly...I want to see a more explicit Mothzilla scene. A nuzzle and everything. But that's just me.
Whatever the quality of his current status, nothing is taking away how much I love this version of Godzilla. He's taken me out of some very dark places, and for that, I say long live the king.
Also, he brought Mothzilla into the public sphere and every Mothzilla pic made since is the cutest thing ever, so I just love him even more.
#best of the reptiles in media#ramblings#godzilla#gojira#monsterverse#godzilla 2014#g14#godzilla king of the monsters#godzilla vs kong#godzilla x kong: the new empire
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Part 2: What Then?
I promise I have a life, but I couldn't help writing part 2 today! This takes place the same day as the "Development Day" when Syd and Carmy are thrown off by each other's answers during an ice breaker activity. Post-season 2. Feel-good fluff.
Photo Credit @drrav3nb / drrav3nb.tumblr.com
"So those are the menu changes for Chicago Restaurant Week. If you have questions, feel free to ask me or Chef Sydney. You should also have an email from Natalie by later today. Okay, let's prep for night service!"
Carmy closed the meeting, grateful that it was finally over. He was no longer afraid of public speaking after rising in the ranks of various kitchens, but his mind was not in this ever since the ice breaker. He, Carmen Berzatto, had made Sydney's favorite meal ever? The last time he prepared the pork confit and the Milk and Honey dishes she mentioned was several years ago. Back then he was at Eleven Madison Park, a rising star on the culinary scene, who chain-smoked, slept 3 hours a night, and was berated by the EC daily. It was a nightmare peppered with flashes of genius. He was dying to ask her about it, but before he could get her attention Sydney had slipped into the kitchen.
He stared disappointed at the window that separated the dining area and kitchen.
"Hey Bear, what's up with you?" Richie said sidling up to him trying to follow his gaze.
"Nothing cousin."
"Yeah, right. I missed when it happened, but it seems like you crashed and had to reboot during the meeting. Then you were lost in Sydney-land. Want to talk about it?"
Carmy rubbed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair. When he used both hands, Richie knew without a doubt he had hit on something.
"First, cool it about Syd. That handout you gave us was really cute. And yes, there's something on my mind, but it's not for me to say."
Richie grinned and rubbed Carmy's shoulder.
"Fine, just get your head together because tonight is going to be loaded and it includes three anniversaries and a birthday. And second, you need to cool it about her or do something. It's like I'm living in The Wonder Years with Kevin and Winnie."
"What?"
"Oh, right. That's probably before your time. Kids!"
With that Richie sauntered over to the host stands to strategize with the wait staff and hosts.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sydney who had a thousand things to do, was adding at least a hundred more onto her plate. She didn't want to appear like she had a moment to spare. She and Carmy could talk at the end of the night as usual, without any eavesdropping. This would also give her time to think of an explanation as to why she never mentioned eating at Eleven Madison Park and that she wasn't a stalker who followed him to The Beef. To top off this awkward sundae, Carmy casually admitted his favorite part of the day was closing, the only time they are alone every day. She hoped no one else had connected the dots on that last part.
The afternoon and the night never went quicker to her chagrin. Even when one of the line cooks was sent home due to illness and a large group put in an order for 7 Fishes two minutes before tickets closed, she thought the night couldn't last long enough. Fortunately, Carmy seemed resigned to waiting and didn't look at her more than usual. In a flash service was over and no one was in the mood to hang around. By 11:00pm Sydney had cleaned her station for the third time and forced herself to go to Carm's office. He sat there pretending to do busy work, patiently waiting like a child who consoled himself that his parents wouldn't make him wait too long to open his Christmas presents.
"Hey Syd...it was a good night," he said softly not wanting to scare her away.
Sydney nodded and took a seat. Might as well get it over with it.
"Okay, yes. You made the best meal I've ever had. During a break at the CIA, I went to NYC and ate everywhere on my list, including Eleven Madison Park. It was a Wednesday night and I ordered several things including pork confit and Milk and Honey."
Sydney couldn't help closing her eyes and smiling at the memory. Her guard began to slip.
"Carm, it was like tasting my future and the best part of my past at the same time. I asked the waiter who made those dishes and he said Carmen Berzatto."
Carmen leaned forward on the desk. Whenever Sydney praised him, he felt like a cactus in an unexpected downpour. He wouldn't waste a single word. Her sunny existence and her belief in him sustained him during his dry seasons. He reached for her whenever he looked at the debt they still owed Uncle Cicero, when his mother finally visited The Bear and cried saying that he had erased Mikey, and even when their success seemed too good to be true.
Sydney opened her eyes to find him looking at her in the way he had. It was terrifying because she had a very specific plan for her career. It also thrilled her, knowing the power she had over him. Five months ago, she had been begging for his focus and now she knew every her mood, glance, and word she spoke impacted him. Once for the fun of it during a slow night she stared at him until she drew his attention and smiled. He blushed, smiled back, came towards her without saying "corner", and crashed into one of the servers, sending three Michael cannoli to the floor. That was three months ago when she first realized something was going on with him. She'd refused to abuse her power since, going so far as to convince herself that she was overestimating his feelings. Then he said the best part of his day was closing. She hoped, well sort of hoped, that they could maintain this close, but not too close partnership and friendship without complications.
After a long pause Carmen sighed and sat back in his chair.
"So, how did you find me?"
"Well, like I said when we met, it was the job posting. I recognized your name and also The Beef from my dad taking me here."
She shrugged thoughtfully.
"It felt like it was meant to be. It gave me hope for the first time since Sheridan went under."
He nodded.
"It's really strange. You came here because I inspired you and the only reason, I felt capable of attempting something this big was because of you" he said gesturing to the ceiling.
"Yeah?" Sydney whispered.
"Yeah."
He stood up and walked around to sit on the desk facing her. Now, Sydney felt vulnerable looking up at him. It was so easy for him to unnerve her when he spoke this way, like under the table.
Carmy took one her hands and after a moment brought it to his lips.
"Thank you for telling me, Syd. It means a lot."
Sydney was unable to speak. Her throat had closed.
"Soon, is your one year work anniversary and I think we should celebrate."
She nodded.
Carmy set her hand down.
"It's late. I'll drive you home."
With that they left the office, gathered their stuff, and walked to his car in silence.
As they drove, Sydney attempted to talk herself down. Was that hand kiss, an Italian thing? Possibly. It also seemed like Carmy decided to do...something, but what? Worse, she was feeling like they had traded positions in mere seconds. She'd enjoyed having the upper hand. Oh, well. With a goodnight's rest she'd be back in form tomorrow. Maybe "accidentally" brush past him, or ask him to lift something heavy for her and comment on his strength. Then it would be game over for poor Carmy bear. For now, she wouldn't worry about the work anniversary. It was probably just going to be a cake Carm commissioned Marcus to bake.
Probably.
#the bear#sydcarmy#sydney x carmy#carmy the bear#sydney adamu#fan fiction#syd adamu#carmy x sydney#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#they are so cute
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Forged From Death - Sihtric Kjartansson x Widow!Reader
An: Thank you so much @foxyanon for the request and officially turning me into a Sihtric girl. I hope this is everything you wanted. And @zaldritzosrose thank you for creating the header you are amazing!
Masterlist here!
Separate from the normal CW section for a special attention. This is going to be dark as reader thinks cruelty of her husband, Sigefrid, and her father towards those around them. No explicit examples of violence or abuse. I really was just trying to capture emotions without talking of direct acts.
CW: Language, political marriage really, Sigefrid is not a good man, neither was reader's father, warlord husband and father, scared child, character death, P IN V sex, fingering, dirty talk, gets quite dirty lots of smut, breeding kink, vague talks of pregnancy kink, she/her pronouns, use of you, reader not really described or named, FLUFFY, Stepdad!Sihtric, found family trope, soulmates trope kinda, love and lust and first sight
Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x reader
Word Count: 6.2k
You knew what you were. A bargaining chip, a prize. Something akin to a crown, symbolizing power. With your own father being a man who bargained in fear rather than respect, you weren’t surprised when your husband was the same.
Sigefrid Thurglison, rather quickly upon marrying you, decided his family’s wealth and power would be found in England. So, you sailed along with him and his brother to find this for yourselves. You, the dutiful wife, who knows your fate would be worse had you denied your father’s arrangement. You, who disappointed your father from birth by just being a daughter, who he could only use as a piece in his games but never actually respect. You, who married a man just like him.
You remained silent throughout. You played your part well, perhaps too well. Your name was used as a way to remind men of the force your husband could bring upon England. Even if they weren’t directly familiar with your father, they remembered the tales their fathers spoke to them, and they bowed at Sigefrid and Erik’s feet.
Until they met a man by the name of Uhtred. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to die or if he was just too stupid to realize that death was a very real possibility. But he was quick to anger your husband and his brother through way of opposition. And, apparently, Uhtred did not heed warnings well. He was unconcerned with the possibility of your father showing up.
“If he wanted England, he would be here,” said a voice from behind Uhtred upon your first meeting. You looked for the source. When you saw the man, you were certain your heart stopped for a moment.
You had seen beauty before. Land, sky, men, women, all of which held a certain captivating air about them. And yet there had been nothing as beautiful as the man who stood before you. You heard Uhtred refer to him as Sihtric, and your eyes made their way over his form. From his brown hair, to his striking yet mismatched eyes, over the angles of his face, and the swell of his muscles that already could be seen straining against the silver bands he wore, there was no part of him you felt was not hand crafted by Freyja herself to be the perfect embodiment of everything she represented.
And Sihtric noticed you. By the gods, did he notice you. You were pretty, prettier than any woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell what started swelling faster when he saw you looking back at him and smile: his cock or his heart.
That was the day he swore he would have you.
When he saw you again, it had been over three years. He hadn’t gone a day without thinking of you if he were honest. He was waiting so he could have his chance with you. Those few moments of seeing you was what carried him through the years. You were the face he saw with every victory and every stroke of his cock.
He only wishes it were under better circumstances.
You still resided in the fortress after Sigefrid laid dead on the ground. You knew the only way any of this would end would be if Sigefrid died. And you knew, as you listened to the herd of feet approach the room you were hidden in, that he had.
Sihtric was the first in the room. He knew that Sigefrid would never leave you far behind. It was unfortunate such a man had the honor of being your first husband. Sihtric, though, was perfectly fine being your last.
A feeling that did not waver when he saw you holding a small child close to your body. There was a fear in both of you, but you had the rage of a mother in your eyes. He could see it, and he wanted you more for it.
“He is dead?” you asked Sihtric as others, Uhtred and another you vaguely recognized, came into the room.
Despite having only seen him once, you knew Sihtric could be trusted. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was lust clouding your judgement. Perhaps it was a sign. Or maybe you were being stupid and crazy and you would only end up right back where you have been your whole life.
But, his eyes made you feel like that would never be the case again.
“Aye,” he said to you. “How old?” He nodded towards your child, your daughter, who looked at him in fear. He held up his arm, wordlessly keeping Uhtred and the other man from coming any closer.
“Four. She was born here, before we were sent away,” you told him truthfully.
“Her name?” he asked you. He continuously looked between your faces, barely capable of holding himself in place and not taking you in his arms.
“Astra.”
He said nothing else to you for the moment, instead crouching down to be on the same level as your daughter. She clung to you tightly.
“Hello, Astra. Are you hurt?” he said quietly to her. In silence, she shook her head. “Is your mother?”
“Mama is safe, I am safe,” she whispered.
It caused your heart to ache when you heard her repeat the words you told her when everything got quiet. Had you never left England, you would’ve been able to leave Sigefrid. You knew you would have had somewhere to take Astra to keep her safe from him. But when your husband was banished, he swore he would return with your father, and you knew better than to wait around for that. Your only saving grace now was that your father had died before you got back to Norway.
“Would you like to leave here? You and your ma can come with me, if you would like.”
Astra looked up at you, tears in her eyes as they had been all day. You knew that while Sigefrid had never touched either of you, he had given you both more than enough reason to be fearful. And you wanted so badly to make sure she never had to live with this fear again.
Your daughter looked to him and nodded silently. He extended his arms towards her slowly.
“Come then, little one. I will get you out of here,” he said softly. Astra, who had never trusted anyone but you, walked directly into his arms.
The sight of his arms wrapping themselves around her small body caused your heart to ache. It was something you had never thought to wish for, your daughter being in the arms of someone but you. Now you could only pray that this was her new normal.
“I’ve got you little one,” he whispered and stood up, holding her close. “I want you to close your eyes tight and put your forehead against my cheek until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded. You watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face squinting up. Her forehead rested perfectly against his cheek, her brown hair matching his in a shocking way. It almost felt as she was made of him.
“You are as pretty as your ma, brave just like her too,” he told her. You were surprised when you heard her giggle. He looked to you. “Take my arm, Lady. “
You did as he said, stepping closer to him and holding tightly to his arm. He made sure you were not questioned or stopped as he led you out of the fortress. He already had stepped in as your protector and you barely knew him.
When you were outside the walls and far from the carnage, Sihtric finally stopped. You watched as he sat Astra down to stand on her own. He told her it was safe to open her eyes, and she looked relieved when she opened them and saw you.
“Lord,” Sihtric said as he saw Uhtred approach. He instinctually moved to stand between you both.
“Are more men following him?” Uhtred asked you, looking at you over Sihtric’s shoulder. His hand remained on his axe, though he did not unsheathe it.
“He was the last of them,” you told him. And that was the truth. Any men that hadn’t abandoned him before this battle laid dead.
“Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked.
You knew the truth of what he was asking. You were a widow now. Your husband’s family were meant to take care of you now, and your daughter. But Sigefrid was the last of his family, having killed his own brother during his last rampage. Their father had long since been dead and had no living brothers.
“No, Lord,” you told him. “He had no surviving family. And my own father died two winters ago. I was the only child.”
He looked past you to Astra. You could see in his eyes he did not trust you. And you did not trust him. You could not find it in you to trust anyone but Sihtric. But good men, which you ultimately believed Uhtred to be, did not harm little girls.
“You may come with me and my men, then. Until you find other…arrangements,” he said gruffly.
It was three and a half months when you began to worry about your future. You thought of Astra and worried endlessly for her. Her father’s reputation would stain her future forever, you feared. You had no way to provide for her truly. Should your fears be proven true, you wouldn’t even be able to arrange a proper marriage for her when the time would come.
But, you thought perhaps you were worrying too much for Astra. You stood in Uhtred’s hall, watching as Sihtric, Osferth, Finan, and Uhtred spoke, Astra settled peacefully on Sihtric’s lap. She was loved so deeply by Sihtric, and by extension the men he fought beside, one could be forgiven for thinking he was her father. Interestingly enough, she looked more like Sihtric than she ever did Sigefrid.
Uhtred looked to you and nodded, having noticed your presence for the first time. You two had a somewhat uneasy trust in each other now. Well, trust that if either of you betrayed Sihtric, or the others, the other would respond with a blade. And that seemed to make you friends.
Sihtric noticed you, immediately lighting up when he looked at you. He beckoned you to him, to Astra, the both of them holding your whole heart.
You were insane, you knew it. But from the moment you saw him those years ago, you loved him. He was obvious. You would burn down all of England for him if he were to ask.
He had never done anything but protected you and Astra from the very first moment. The day Sigefrid died, it could’ve been so much worse for her. But Sihtric was the one to make sure that no bad ever touched her since he met her.
It was one of many ways that everyone knew you two would find your way to each other. Sihtric would give everything for and to you. As far as he was concerned, the universe began and ended in you and at your feet he would worship. And there had never been a moment in which you doubted his devotion to you or Astra.
“Go say hello to your ma, little one,” Sihtric said softly to Astra.
“Okay, papa,” she giggled as she crawled off his lap while you knelt down.
It was not the first time she had referred to him as such, but it touched your soul every time you heard it. Sihtric looked to you immediately to make sure you did not think to correct her. He was not deluding himself into thinking his presence in Astra’s life could erase all the bad. But he knew, without a doubt, that she was his. From the moment he first held her in his arms, she was his girl and there was no argument he would listen to.
Your darling girl ran into your waiting arms. She was giggling, as she had done since your arrival in Coccham. She was happier than she had ever been. She felt more peaceful.
“Mama, mama, papa is making me an axe,” she told you excitedly.
“Oh is he?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up to Sihtric. He blushed brightly, especially when Uhtred and Finan began to tease him for being in trouble.
“M-my love, I only,” he said, beginning to attempt an explanation.
“She will need an axe if she is going to be on my shield wall one day,” Uhtred told you, grinning from ear to ear. He stood from his seat, drumming a bit on the table, before he jogged over to you and Astra. “And if there is one thing my Little Star will be it is an excellent warrior.”
You watched as Uhtred picked her up and put her on his shoulders. She squealed and giggled until she was settled on her perch.
“If you are teaching her, then I consider myself lucky to have such a warrior in my home,” you said, standing, while grinning ear to ear. “Perhaps she will be knowledgeable enough to teach our next child.” You looked directly at Sihtric as you said ‘our’.
“Our next ten,” he said back to you. He was still blushing a bit, but he enjoyed these moments.
“And you shall birth them all? If it is up to me, you get five,” you said to him.
“You would give me five more children?” he asked excitedly. You could practically see him buzzing.
“Should you decide to take me as your wife,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging to him as you walked over to the table he sat at.
Once you were in his reach, his arm wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip. There was no hesitation from either of you as Sihtric pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your arms around him.
At first, you had withheld from such public affection. You were only a few months a widow, you felt as though there was some need to respect your loss. But, when your husband had been so cruel to everyone around him and Sihtric was such a soft presence, you lasted perhaps a week before you made your affections clear.
“You honor me, my love,” he said softly. “To think you have already blessed me with one, and are willing to bless me with more. One would be a fool to deny the chance to be your husband.”
You kissed his cheek. It was truly simple with him. There was no darkness. Only love and warmth flowed between you both.
“You will make sure she is careful?” you asked him, bringing the conversation back to the idea of Astra getting an axe.
“Of course, my love,” he confirmed to you. “You know nothing means more to me than the safety of my girls.”
It was less than a month later that you were married. Sihtric made sure it was everything you dreamt of it, everything you were not afforded the first time around. He was watching as you danced with Astra. He loved both of you more than anyone had loved two people.
“Congratulations,” Uhtred said as he sat next to Sihtric. “You will make a fine husband.”
“Thank you, Lord,” he said, smiling. His eyes went between you and Uhtred rapidly, wanting to make sure you never disappeared.
“I see our Little Star got a hold of your hair,” Uhtred smirked as he grabbed a drink. Sihtric’s hand moved to his head, where there was a tiny braid in his hair.
“There is no finer braider in all of England,” he said. “Finan has offered to keep her tonight.”
“Did he tell you Osferth and I were asked to come too?” Uhtred chuckled.
“He did, Lord,” Sihtric laughed, taking a drink of his ale. He sat the cup down, looking to his Lord, his friend. “I want her to be mine.”
“She already is,” Uhtred said. “Nobody will deny that.”
“No, I mean....I want Astra to be just as the children of my blood. I want her to inherit, I want to be responsible for her. Entirely. And should she and my wife allow, I want to give her my name,” Sihtric said.
Uhtred could see a determination on his friend’s face that he had not quite seen before. It shone through in a burning heat. He lived for the family he had with you now. No oath superseded his oath to the two of you, and none ever would.
“Should they wish it, it is done. I will make it known Astra is to be no different than any child of your blood,” he promised his friend. “Now, go dance with your wife. Take her to bed. We will keep our Little Star.”
With a clap on the shoulder, Sihtric stood from the table and began to work his way through crowd to you. You were twirling Astra around, making her laugh and laugh. He could not imagine a more perfect life for himself.
Sihtric chuckled when Astra noticed him and ran into his legs. He knew she was his. She was meant to be his daughter. He could not be bothered by something as trivial as blood. He, of all people, knew family was not limited to blood. Family was created by love, and he loved her enough to create a universe.
Then there was you, his dear wife. He thought you looked stunning in your dress, the deep red color feeling like the physical representation of his love for you. You were more than he could have ever dreamed of. All of his life, he wanted to be what his father wasn’t. A good, honorable man who stayed for his family and loved his wife. A man worthy of love and respect.
And he realized that’s exactly how you saw him.
“Hello, my love,” you said to him when you saw him.
“Are you talking to me?” he asked teasingly, picking Astra up when she stopped dancing.
“Yes, my love. Though, perhaps you would much prefer my husband,” you said, smirking.
“Aye. After all, I will never call you anything but my wife again,” he said and rubbed his nose against Astra’s cheek.
“Hehe papa,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “I love you.”
Sihtric could feel his heart skip a beat. She had called him papa for months at this point, that was no surprise. But, Astra had not told him she loved him. And there was something so precious about hearing it.
“I love you, little one,” he said softly, pressing his lips against her forehead.
You smiled at the two of them. You wanted to hold this moment in your mind for the rest of your life. Capture it, freeze it for all of eternity, something you could hold onto and remember love.
“Now little one, Uncle Finan is excited to start your time together. Your ma and I will see you in the morning,” he told her as he sat her down.
“UNCLE FINAN I AM COMING!” Astra shouted as she ran off through the crowd.
Every person parted to let her through, allowing your eyes to follow her path to Finan. She was loved by most any in town. Her personality was loud and bright enough so that everyone knew her. Of course, it helped that she was always right by your side, and you were always close to Sihtric.
And you knew, at least within the confines of the town walls, she was safe to move about. Most everyone would agree that harming a child is egregious. Everyone agreed that harming your child was the fastest way to ensure a brutal death by the hands of Sihtric, and a quick one by Uhtred and Finan. Even Osferth, sweet Osferth, would pray for his God’s forgiveness as he took the life of anyone who would lay a finger on Astra. She was loved, she was safe. For the first time in her life she did not flinch when she was more than an inch from your skirts.
“Being my wife suits you,” Sihtric told you, drawing your eyes from Finan and Astra to him.
He looked at you with pure adoration. He worshipped you. Made certain that he loved you enough to make the bad parts of your life feel like another lifetime.
“Just as being my husband suits you,” you said to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you tightly to him. He breathed you in, feeling overwhelmed by you. Everything about you was intoxicating to him. From your beauty, the way you smelled, the way your body pressed against his own, there was nothing that could dampen his desire of you.
“Then it seems we are in agreement,” he said.
“That it does,” you said softly, leaning forward slightly. Your lips hovered next to his ear. “And I think I would like to feel my husband.”
You felt him shudder with your words, the unmistakable hardness of his erection beginning to dig into you. It had not been difficult to get him excited these last months. Even after both of you had agreed to wait until you were married, you had enjoyed riling him up before he returned to his own home.
“I have dreamt of this night for years,” he muttered to you. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were mine. I dreamt of my cock sinking deep into you for hours on end.”
It was your turn now for a shiver down your spine. There was no part of you that could deny dreaming of the same thing for just as long. In the years trying to exist outside of England, the nights where you went to bed amidst yells and cheers during another fight to the death for Sigefrid’s amusement, you dreamt of his mismatched eyes. Of his sharp beauty. Of a life you now got to share with him.
You weren’t sure who broke away first between the two of you, but it wasn’t long before you were walking down the streets to his, no your, home. The home you would grow old together in, gods be good. And the two of you couldn’t keep from stopping every few feet, pulling the other for a deep, passionate kiss.
When you finally arrived at the house, he picked you up and carried you over the threshold. In fact, he did not put you down until he could place you on the bed. You had barely recognized that you were laying on it before he was hovering over you, repeatedly kissing your neck.
“Such a pretty wife,” he muttered with every kiss. You put your head back to expose more of your sensitive skin. “Have been blessed, haven’t I? Blessed by the gods to be given such a pretty wife.”
You placed a hand on the bag of his head and gripped his hair firmly. Despite the pull on his hair, you only brought him closer into you. You could feel him starting to grind himself against your thigh, desperately looking for some relief.
“Fuck, Sihtric,” you moaned out. But when his name left your lips, he nipped at your neck quickly. It took you by surprise, causing a quiet squeak to escape you.
“Be a good, pretty wife and do not use my name tonight,” he whispered in your ear.
“Such a demanding husband I have,” you teased. “So desperate to fuck me he has to rut against me like an animal.”
He groaned into your neck at your words, his right hand beginning to fumble with the fastenings of your dress. You ignored the shaking of your own hands, your need of Sihtric outweighing your nerves. This was meant to be, after all. And you had faith it would be perfect.
“Use your mouth for better things and perhaps I will let you fuck a child into me tonight,” you told him. This time it was not a groan, but a quiet whimper, that left his lips. His fingers struggled with undressing you, the way it was held to your body being more complicated than he had thought.
He pulled back entirely, sitting up on his knees as he began reaching for the knife he carried. He cut the fabric of your dress away from your body. You stared at him, eyes heavy with lust.
“Nothing but a dress, you can replace it,” he told you. You could only nod at him as he helped remove the material away completely. After a moment, the tattered remains of the dress and his knife fell together to the floor, just as quickly forgotten.
He stared at your naked form. He could not help it, truly. Everything about you was perfect for him. He leaned forward and kissed you once more, before his lips started trailing down your body. Along your jawline, down your neck, over your collarbone. He only took pause when he got to your breasts. Sihtric’s left hand began pawing at one while his lips wrapped around your nipple.
You moaned quietly as he sucked while massaging your soft flesh. Your eyes fluttered shut, whimpering every time he decided to graze your nipple with his teeth. You wanted to beg him to give you more, to pleasure your aching cunt.
He groaned to himself before pulling away from your breasts entirely, muttering a promise he would play with them more. You almost started to laugh, only for it to catch in your throat when his fingers found your slick. He smirked down at you.
“You must really enjoy this, wife,” he whispered teasingly. His fingers ran up and down your folds, deliberate in their light touching of your pearl.
“Of course, I have only dreamt of you as my husband a few dozen times now,” you told him. Your thighs trembled a bit as you resisted the urge to buck your hips into his hand.
He hummed quietly as he allowed his finger to sink into you. While you became a whimpering mess, he just slowly thrust his finger in and out. Never had you known such bliss. His finger felt thicker than you had anticipated.
“What is it, pretty wife? Cannot think through your pleasure?” he asked you, looking directly into your eyes.
Your resolve finally broke. With a moan, you allowed your hips to move to meet his hand. All you could think of was chasing your pleasure with him.
“You say I am demanding, but you are so needy,” he cooed. He pushed another finger into you, curling his fingers slightly with every thrust of them. His touch was perfectly focused on the spongy spot inside you.
“Love, my love, please, fuck, please,” you moaned. You couldn’t finish a single thought as you felt a band tightening behind your navel.
You had only experienced such a feeling with yourself. Pleasure had never been at the forefront of your life. Until now, at least, since Sihtric seemed determined to make you reach that point. He increased the speed of his fingers movements.
“Cum for me,” he practically demanded of you. His voice was quiet, meant only for your ears, but forceful in nature. “And then I’ll give you my cock. Such a good girl, you deserve it. Don’t you, my love?”
“Y-yes,” you whispered. You gripped the furs under you tightly, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.
“Deserve my cock, deserve my love. You have both, entirely, you understand?” he asked you, his thumb barely ghosting against your pearl.
“Yes, fuck, my love, my husband,” you whined pathetically. It seemed to please him, at least enough.
His thumb finally rested against the bundle of nerves, rubbing circles in time with every thrust of his fingers. The band finally snapped as you cried out, back arching off the bed. A jumbled mess of his name, husband, love, and expletives left your tongue.
You were able to watch as Sihtric removed his touch from you entirely. He brought his fingers to his lips before he sucked them clean, earning another whimper from you. And then you got to watch him undress, his shirt and pants being flung away in a matter of moments.
You weren’t entirely sure which of the gods had blessed you, but you thanked everyone of them when Sihtric stood naked before you. His toned chest and stomach was near flawless, save for a few scars earned in battle. The Thor’s hammer pendant rested against his taut chest. Your gaze washed over the grooves of his form, able to count each muscle, until they finally landed on his cock.
He was blessed even then. His heavy cock bobbed with need. When his eyes caught yours, he smirked at your hungry gaze. He was long and thick enough to make you question just how exactly you were meant to take him in entirely.
Sihtric couldn’t hide his smirk when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body closer to his. He groaned softly as his cock now rested against you, already collecting your slick.
“I love you,” he said to you, his voice softer than the cocky look etched on his face would have you expect.
You tried to stutter out some response before he started rubbing himself against you. Anytime the head brushed against your pearl, the feeling stole your words and sent shockwaves through your body. There was a pride he felt at already having you responding like this before having even fucked you.
“I love…fuck, fuck me, fuck I love you,” you finally managed to get out.
“Good girl, using your words,” he cooed. He moved his cock to start pressing against your entrance. “Are you going to keep being a good girl, love?”
“Yes,” you said weakly and nodded
He smiled at you. He grabbed your leg gently, hooking it on his arm, as he leaned down to bring his face closer to you. Your knee pressed against your chest while he kissed you. You melted into his kiss, your hands releasing the furs you laid up on to hold his face gently.
Your kiss only ended on account of the way he couldn’t hold back his whines and whimpers when he pushed into you. He couldn’t help the way your name left him when you took half of him without issue.
He pulled himself away to look down at your face. After a moment, he looked between your bodies and groaned when he saw you impaled on his cock.
“Fuck, such a pretty wife I have,” he muttered. “You ready for more, my love?” he asked when he reconnected your gaze.
“Yes,” you told him, nodding eagerly.
He groaned as he moved his hips forward. It was pure bliss for both of you. His cock throbbed with every thrust, your walls clenching tightly around him. Every nerve ending in both of you felt like it was on fire as your connection only grew. Sihtric watched you every second, trying to make sure it was as mind blowing for you as it was for him.
His speed increased desperately. He needed more, you needed more. Your hands roamed his body, your moans filling his ears like a beautiful song. The head of his cock kept moving against the spongy spot inside, making your thighs tremble once again.
You watched him as he thrust into you. His pendant and your breasts moved in time with his thrusts, captivating him. You could see him teetering the line of control and instinct. He wanted this to be sweet for you, to be perfect, everything you deserved. He has heard enough stories of your life to know you deserved more than to once again be used for someone else’s pleasure.
“Such a good husband already,” you told him, gripping his biceps. His gaze softened when you spoke, his hips stuttering a bit. “We have all our lives for you to make me scream your name in pleasure, do we not? “
He nodded wordlessly. His cock never once stilled in you as he watched you. He kept grunting under his breath, every noise ending in what sounded like a whine.
“Then I say tonight, I want you to finish inside of me until there is no doubt that come morning I am carrying your child,” you commanded.
His mouth hung open, his hips slowing a bit as he stared down at you. You could see him searching for any uncertainty on your face. Yet, he could search for his entire life and never find in you any doubt of him.
You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned up and took his pendant of Thor’s hammer in between your teeth before looking directly into his eyes. His thrusts picked up in speed, going harder and deeper than before.
He closed the gap between you, his lips coming next to your ear as he finally released your leg. On one side all you could hear a symphony of skin slapping against skin as he fucked you at an almost bruising intensity. In the other, he began to whimper and whine for you.
“Pretty wife, amazing mother,” he whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. He was throbbing inside you and you could feel just how close he was. The way he twitched and pushed against you, his weight pressing into your chest, the band started to tighten again.
“Already a desperate man for you,” he grunted. You were incapable of getting any sound to leave your mouth. All you could do was focus on his word, his sounds, his movements. He was all you knew to be true in this moment.
“Can’t wait to see you pregnant. Probably prettier, round with child and tits swollen with milk. Fuck,” he said to you as his hips started stuttering more frequently.
Your orgasm overcame you finally, causing you to cry out his name. You were barely aware of his whisperings still in your ear.
“That’s a good girl, fuck, yes, my pretty wife,” he practically growled in your ear. Finally, his thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside you as he released ropes of hot cum into you. Sihtric let out a sound with every throb.
You were trembling when he pulled himself from you, breathing heavily. Carefully, he maneuvered the furs out from under your body before carefully covering you both. You moved closer to him and laid your head on his chest. His arm wrapped around you, holding you as though he was terrified of you walking out the door.
You laid there in silence for several moments, basking in the way you felt. With being given from your father to Sigefrid, you had never known much of love or safety. You had never really known kindness. You had feared for so long that the violence and chaos both of them had brought into their lives and halls would haunt you forever.
Yet, laying here in Sihtric’s arms, you almost couldn’t remember how they made you feel. He made you feel so powerful, so loved, so worshipped beyond belief that you would now go days without thinking of the horrors of your past. Even Astra seemed to feel nothing but safety and love.
You turned your face to look at him. He was looking happily down at you, a cheesy, lazy little grin splashed on his face. You were certain nothing could get better than this.
“I love you,” you said softly. “Especially your eyes.”
He rolled them, yet the smile never faded. “Which is your favorite?” he asked.
“Oh no, that is like trying to choose a favorite mountain, or snowflake. Each so unique, so special, one would be an ignorant fool to pick a favorite,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Luckily, I do not have to. I get to enjoy them until I die.”
“Oh? And if I die before you?” he teased, kissing your forehead.
“You are not allowed. I cannot let you walk into Valhalla without me there to greet you, even if that means I will need to pick up an axe again,” you said simply. It was your truth. “I have spent my entire life waiting for the love you give me. You are not allowed to ever make me live without it again, husband.”
Sihtric tried to hide it, but you could see him wiggle just a bit, his smile spread further, when you addressed him as husband. In the moments past, he was too distracted by lust. But now it was sinking in, for both of you, and you felt just as joyful as him.
“Of course, wife. I would not dare leave you to raise our ten children alone,” he said, smirking as you laughed.
“I believe I said five more,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe Freyja will bless us with a small army, as much as I plan to bury my cock in you,” he told you, kissing your forehead. “Speaking of.”
Sihtric smirked before kissing you again, pulling you on top of him. You felt your laugh rumble in your chest as you couldn’t help but kiss him back.
You were finally no longer a bargaining chip.
Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @alexagirlie
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almost uploaded a picture of my bank statement instead of this header! happy days!
thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rmd-writes
@nancygillianmvp @terramous @tellmegoodbye @freneticfloetry @beautifulhigh
@orchidscript @myheartalivewrites and @strandnreyes (don't think that was a real tag but i'm taking it anyway to force you to love me).
1. How many works do you have on Ao3?
49 (last time it was 46 but i feel like that isn't enough of a difference? disappointed in myself dfhskjh)
2. What's your Ao3 bodycount word count?
1,119,086 which does include some co-writes, but I also have around 200k of unposted WIP in my google docs so i'm counting it (including a fully written fic - someone put their hands around my neck and force me to edit it PLEASE).
3. Which fandoms do you write for?
red white and royal blue, 911 lone star, top gun maverick (flirting with winter's orbit always)
4. Top 5 fics by kudos?
the order of these has changed but not the identity:
Speak for Yourself (RWRB) (you know when eminem said he'd never be able to top My Name Is? this is my version of that)
Fifty First Dates (RWRB) (oodie agenda reigns supreme)
The RIng-In (Lone Star) (otherwise, lone star is in danger of being eviscerated from this top 5 lmao)
(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB) (NDAs are hot, apparently)
Cursed is a State of Mind (RWRB) (cursed caffeine is the main drawcard let's not lie)
5. Do you respond to comments?
i try my absolute best to. i am currently really behind and i apologise for that (the problem is, i reply to comments before i post anything and i haven't posted anything in ages).
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
serious answer - Contaminated
my answer - oh baby i'm a fool for you because we never find out if they actually watch twilight and that's a damn shame
7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
literally everything else - i don't really do open endings or sad endings! in the words of the great philosopher, skepta: "nah, that's not me."
8. Do you get hate on fics?
i used to, but i haven't in ages! thank god for that.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
yes, although i have to say i've been moving away from pwp lately. i feel my best smut is written into longer fics where the sex serves a plot or characterisation purpose within the frame of the overarching narrative.
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
yes, a RWRB/LS but i never finished it. ALTA is a veronica mars inspired tarlos fic which kind of feels like a crossover at times.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not to my knowledge :)
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yes! Phonography (Lone Star) has been translated, as has Baby, Make Your Move (Lone Star) and Warm Whispers (Lone Star). I'm very grateful to the incredible people who have made these translations happen - you are so talented.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic?
yes, many with @dustratcentral. I also wrote a chapter of a co-written fic with a whole bunch of incredible RWRB authors called never the same twice.
@rmd-writes and I have created (Un)Professional Services and (upcoming) Call Me (By Your Name).
The Rainbow Fish was co-written with @strandnreyes.
I love co-writing so much and I am always open to anyone who wants to give it a go!
14. What's your all time favourite ship?
me + my unposted wips.
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
probably the aforementioned crossover which was apparently also my answer last time.
16. What are your writing strengths?
i'm allergic to giving myself compliments but i would say maybe dialogue/banter and worldbuilding.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
keeping things short. also, exposition.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
kinda scared to because i don't speak any other languages and i'm so hesitant to annoy my very talented multi-lingual friends with my annoying questions.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
we don't talk about that.
20. Favourite fic you've written?
probably still Love Game because the experience was just so amazing and i never wanted to stop writing it.
heaps of people have already done this so leaving an open tag and also a couple of suggestions under the cut but apologies if you've already participated or been tagged 7 million times:
@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @indomitable-love @eclectic-sassycoweyes
@tailoredshirt @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @mikibwrites @birdclowns
@ladytessa74 @basilsunrise @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rosedavid @sanjuwrites
@alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @marjansmarwani @dumbpeachjuice @doublel27
@lemonlyman-dotcom @blueink3 @ambiguouspenny @clottedcreamfudge @emmalostinwonderland
@sail-not-drift @inexplicablymine @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @reyesstrand
@goodways @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @sunshinestrand @sherryvalli
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7:15
author's note: hello hello hello ! the jolly fic i promised last month. on a roll :-) i have a few trips coming up and i wanted to get this sweet lil fic out before i was away from home. i haven't wrote much for jolly and i just really like how this came out. short and sweet, domestic as fuck. as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated !
pairing: joakim karlsson x reader
cross-posted on ao3
word count: 1.9k
cw/tags: fluff, sweet domestic tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, maybe some angst but it lasts 2 seconds, kissing, ~suggestive~ content, 18+ minors do not interact
Jolly wakes up slowly, a groan slipping from his lips as he stretches his limbs out across the bed. He pauses, realizing the spot beside him was unoccupied and cold, and a frown settles on his lips. Blinking, he sits up and stretches out his limbs again with another groan, looking beside him to confirm that yes, the other side of the bed is definitely empty.
He doesn't panic, no, because he sees the bedroom door has been left ajar only slightly, but enough to let him hear you downstairs. It's a distant sound, muffled, but he can hear the clambering and chattering of pans in the kitchen and the faint hum of music. The frown on his lips slips away and a smile replaces it soon after, heart twisting.
He loves mornings like this with you. With their more than hectic schedule now, mornings like this are few and far in-between, so he tries to never take it for granted. Even though he'd much rather drag you back into bed with him and sleep a few more hours, (he flinches at the time on the clock, 7:15), he throws his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up. He hisses as his feet meet the cold floor but braves it, shuffling out of your shared bedroom and down the stairs.
The music gets louder the closer he gets to the kitchen and he's not sure what it is, something easy to listen to early in the morning. Some morning indie playlist you found on Spotify, he's sure. He smiles again when he finds you in sweatpants and an old shirt of his, hair pulled back out of your face. Your back is facing him, humming along to whatever song is playing, and he leans against the wall beside him. Jolly doesn't remember the last time he was able to just... admire you from afar. He's always in your space whenever he's home, the both of you wanting to spend as much time with each other as you can, never leaving each other's side.
He likes seeing you like this. As corny as it sounds, this is the most beautiful he thinks you are. Still sleepy he’s sure, still in your pajamas, hair thrown in a messy ponytail, cooking breakfast for the both of you. It's something he'll never get tired of.
After a solid two minutes of silently watching you, he shuffles over to where you stand and doesn't waste time in wrapping his arms around your middle, lips meeting your shoulder.
"Good morning."
"Was waiting for you to come over here." You hum and instantly melt back into his chest. "Were you just watching me in silence?"
"Maybe."
"Creep."
But he can hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head before untangling himself from you, leaning against the counter to your right.
"What's on the menu this morning?" He questions, eyeing the eggs in the pan.
"Eggs and waffles. Wanted some turkey bacon with it too, but was deeply disappointed to find out that we were out." You send him a pout before focusing back on cooking.
"Oh, you poor thing. How will you ever survive?" He teases before reaching out to poke your side gently, causing you to squeak. "I’ll make sure to add it to our ever growing list. You still want to do that today, right?"
"At some point." You nod before reaching over to turn the stove off and then reaching for one of the waffle filled plates that were placed behind him - two for you, three for him. "We also need to clean this place up before you leave. The living room makes me want to peel my skin off... and don't even get me started on your studio."
He hums, almost in an afterthought, and watches you plate the eggs. "We have time, love."
"I know, I just..." You trail off, continuing to plate the food and he watches as your brows begin to furrow like they always did when you were in thought.
He reaches up and rubs his thumb in between your brows. "Your face will get stuck like that."
"Shut up." You grumble, but your face relaxes for just a moment. "I just like having the place clean before you leave. Makes it feel better when you're gone."
It's his turn to frown, brows furrowing as he stares at you. He knows it rough when he leaves. Leaving you here all alone while he's off traveling with the band isn’t an easy thing to do. If it was his choice, he'd bring you with him every time, but he can't. You have responsibilities here... and unfortunately, his responsibilities are elsewhere most of the time.
He doesn't leave for another three weeks, though, and usually you're asking him to help clean up around the house the week prior. Something is obviously bothering you.
"What's on your mind?"
You sigh, sitting the spatula down on the counter after you finally finished plating. "I just... this time feels different. Don’t you think?”
Jolly cocks and eyebrow up at you. "How so?"
"I don't know." You shrug and come to stand before him, leaning into him and resting your forehead against his shoulder. His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you closer to him. "You guys are getting bigger, which is amazing. Don't ever think I hate that because I don't, but... the bigger you get means the more tours you get. The more tours you get means..."
You don't say it, voice trailing off, but he knows what your next words will be. The more tours you get means the less time at home. With you. His frown deepens at that.
"Baby..."
"And I don't want to sound selfish. Seriously, I don't! I'm so fucking proud of you, Joakim. All of you. Some of the most deserving people I've ever met, but I..." You sigh again, almost in defeat, and he feels you press closer to him, voice muffled. "I miss you. More than I usually do. It used to be easier, and it still is because I know you'll always come back, but..."
The silence that follows breaks his heart.
He does remember this last time being away in Europe was a little rougher than normal, constantly thinking about you, wishing you were there with him. It might be because last time they were there you were with him, taking leave from work to join him on their European headliner for this new album. The only thing that really got him through was the fact he knew that when he got home, you'd be right there waiting for him.
"But?"
"But... it just sucks." You pull back just enough to look up at him, a sad smile settling on your lips. "Wish I could just go with you and not worry about anything else.”
"You could," He's quick to respond. "You've always had that option."
"I know." You mumble, face pressing back against his shoulder. "I feel bad, though. Making you support the both of us. Plus, you know how much I hate flying. I couldn't stand it."
Jolly laughs at the tiny groan you let out, probably remembering your flight last year to the UK with him and the rest of the band. You had begged Matt to switch seats with you, so he could be by the window and you in the aisle with Jolly squished between you two. One look out the window - while you were still on the ground - had sent you in a spiral. He remembers having to hold your hand the entire flight, and when it was allowed, lifting up the armrest so you could press yourself into his side. He hadn't minded it one bit, finding it endearing that you put all your trust in him to keep you safe.
"You and flying don't mix well." He teases, hands now rubbing up and down your arms. "But... you know I don't mind providing for you."
"I know you don't."
"And I love taking care of you."
"I know you do." You whine, pulling back again to pout up at him. "But you know I can't let you do that. My brain tells me no."
"Tell your brain to get over it and let your boyfriend take care of you." He leans forward, planting a kiss to the center of your forehead. He feels your arms circle around his middle and he smiles against your skin.
"If only it were that easy." He pulls back to find you still staring at him, but a smile has since replaced the pout on your lips. "This'll only suck for a little bit, then it'll become our new norm and it'll get easier. I'm just cranky about it now, but I know we'll figure it out."
"We always figure it out." He hums. "Just tell me what you need from me to make it easier on you while I'm away, and I'll do it."
"There's nothing you can do.” You pause. “Except, maybe, right now… a kiss could possibly fix my cranky mood."
He watches your gaze drop from his down to his lips, and then back up, your own lips puckering dramatically. Jolly huffs out a laugh before happily obliging and leans down, lips pressing against yours gently. Nothing too crazy, a sweet peck, because he still hasn't brushed his teeth, and he pulls back seconds later.
"I love you." You say happily, eyes fluttering shut briefly.
"I love you, too, baby."
"Alright, I’m not allowed to complain for the rest of the day. Let's eat before all my hardwork gets cold." You step on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away entirely, reaching around him for both of your plates. "And maybe after, shower? Then go grocery shopping? The fridge is running on fumes... I think I used the last of the eggs and we have maybe half a glass of milk left."
He perks up at that, following you over to the chairs that sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen, plucking his plate from your hands before settling down in his chair. "A shower, you say?"
"Of course that's the only thing you heard." You deadpan, but he doesn't miss the smirk on your lips.
"Sorry. You know my brain likes to focus on the important stuff."
"Perv." You tease, but the smirk has finally settled on your lips fully. "Does that sound good, though?"
"Mhm. Sounds good to me, love."
"Oh! And maybe later we could go to the thrift store we wanted to check out last week? Hit up some other shops, too."
"Oooh, yes. That sounds like a perfect plan.”
It's almost as if the worry from earlier is forgotten as your conversation continues through breakfast, and when you're finished putting your dirty dishes away and dragging him up the stairs to go shower (among other things), Jolly knows that the two of you will eventually figure it out. He knows you two can weather any storm, just like you have for the last few years, and that these worries won't mean much to the two of you in the future. He knows wherever he goes, you’ll be right there waiting for him, and he hopes you know he’d do the same for you.
#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens fanfic#bad omens fic#joakim karlsson fic#joakim karlsson fanfiction#joakim karlsson x reader#mine
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